


The Ashen Demon

by ReddySica1



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rating subject to change, Romance Pairings TBD, canon divergence happens quicker than I thought it would, no beta we die like Glenn, violence is more graphic than the game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReddySica1/pseuds/ReddySica1
Summary: “Is that what this is? Friendship?” Sothis smiled at her, almost pityingly.“If you asked them, I am sure they would say it is. You love them, and they love you. You protect each, lift each other up. That is friendship.”“How do you know this? You couldn’t even remember your own name when we met,” pointed out Byleth pragmatically, pulling Dimitri’s loose gloves back over her much smaller hands. Sothis made a rude noise.“I don’t remember names, but I remember the feeling. I had friends once, before you. I’m sure of it. Get some rest. I will keep watch and wake you if there is danger.”
Comments: 25
Kudos: 80





	1. Blue Sky, Red Grass and Golden Words

Byleth sat up in her bedroll, wide awake in the cold darkness of pre-dawn. There was no way she could fall asleep again after the dream. Ever since they arrived in Fόdlan she had dreamt of the warrior with green hair and the battle on some unknown plain. The sleeping girl in gold and white was a new development in the dream, but her voice was old and familiar. Byleth had relied on that voice more than once in battle.

Byleth dressed, bundled up in black pants tucked into her well-worn leather boots, shirt and overcoat belted at the waist. She threw her cloak over her shoulders as the final barrier against the bite of Fόdlan’s chilly spring air. After years in Morfis with dry desert heat or the humid heat of an impending monsoon, Fόdlan’s wet and cold was a shock to her system.

Remire was a nice enough village. The people were hospitable and didn’t ask questions of her father about their mercenary outfit so long as the men behaved themselves. Jeralt was nothing if not a consummate professional and their twenty-seven men took their lead from their captain after their decades in the islands.

After packing her bedroll away, Byleth took her whetstone, oil and cloth from her saddlebags and left the stables the innkeeper had let them sleep in. She took herself outside to clean and sharpen her blade so as not to wake the sleeping men. The dawn was starting to colour the sky as she worked the blade meticulously. She had been cleaning and sharpening blades since before she could wield one herself. Her father had been death on weapon maintenance, and as an adult Byleth understood why he had drilled it into her. A dull blade was death on a battlefield, and so too was blade sharpened too fine.

Byleth heard the tell-tale footfalls of her father as he came outside and stood beside her. “Another of your dreams?”

“I dreamed of a girl this time, sitting on a throne. Green hair and eyes; pointed ears. She looked like a teenager, but she sounded older.”

“Not the same one you’ve described before?” Byleth shook her head as she wiped down her sword and wrapped the whetstone in its cloth.

“No. She resembled the warrior, but she was not the same. I have heard her voice before, but never seen her face.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met someone like that. It is time to put thoughts of her out of your mind. The battlefield is not the place for such things. We should be in Faerghus today.” Byleth nodded, rising to her feet. She sheathed and fastened her sword to her belt, making her way to the horses and packing her stone in her saddlebags. She scratched Mutt’s ears, making the horse whinny. Byleth hardly needed a reminder to empty her mind. The people of Morfis hadn’t called her the Ashen Demon for nothing. She was void of emotion on the battlefield, a mythos that was growing to rival her father’s own as Blade-Breaker.

“Letting your mind wander is sure way to get yourself killed,” answered Byleth. She had heard his words countless times over her life, from her days as a child with a wooden training sword in her hand, to her adulthood as his second-in-charge in battle.

The men had started waking up and like a well-oiled machine, the men were packing their things away and saddling their horses. Jeralt nodded to his daughter. “It is time to get moving.”

It was at that moment that a village boy came running over to the captain. “S-Sorry to intrude, sir. But there are people with weapons at the gate asking for aid.” Jeralt glanced at his daughter who was at his side in an instant.

“Let’s go see what this commotion is about.” Byleth emptied her mind, her face impassive as she followed her father to the gate. The villagers who had risen with the sun now locked themselves in their homes like this was a common practice. She wondered momentarily about what kind of place the Adrestian Empire was that its commonfolk were used to marauders at their gates. Such a thing seemed odd to be so normalised.

At the gate there were three young adults, close to Byleth’s own age and yet so much younger in some ways. A pale girl with white hair and lilac eyes dressed in a brilliant crimson cloak emblazoned with a two-headed eagle; a blond boy in a vivid blue and silver overcoat and a lance with a lion’s head pommel; and a darker skinned boy in a cream and gold cape fastened to one shoulder with a jewelled stag clasp. Nobles, judging by the quality of their clothing and weapons. No common bandit could afford such quality.

The young man in blue bowed gracefully to Jeralt, a gesture so foreign to her that Byleth’s lips twitched just a fraction in amusement.

“Please forgive our intrusion, sir. We would not bother you good people if our situation was not dire.” His elocution could cut glass, and Byleth could see her father stiffen just a little at the noble style of speech. It wasn’t something anyone else would notice unless they too had spent their entire lives with the man, but Byleth never had any trouble reading her father.

“What do some kids want at this hour?” growled Jeralt, folding his arms over his chest.

“We are being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope you would be kind enough to lend us your support,” answered the blond.

“It’s true,” interrupted the pale girl in red. “They attacked us while we rested at our camp.” Her accent was somehow even sharper than the blond. Was there such a thing as a nobler noble?

“We were separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered,” continued the dark-skinned boy in gold. He sounded less refined than his companions, far less like he learned to talk in a cold stone room with a governess striking his fingers for each mispronunciation. “They are after our lives; not to mention our gold.”

Jeralt huffed. “I’m surprised you’re managing to stay so calm considering the situation.” He glances down at their black and silver uniforms and his eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, those uniforms– “

“Captain!” interrupted one of their men and Byleth looked back to see Shamas pointing to the east where the sun was now peeking over the trees. Byleth could make out men coming toward them, a force of perhaps seventy bandits in mismatched leathers making their way to the village.

“It looks like your friends followed you here.” Jeralt turned to his child. “We cannot abandon the village to them.” Byleth nodded and unsheathed her sword, thankful she had woken early enough to sharpen and oil her blade.

Jeralt ran back to his horse as Byleth signalled for a group of their archers to follow her into a copse outside the gates. The men didn’t need a word from her to follow, some climbing up the trees with practiced speed to take their position in the cover provided. The golden caped boy joined her, his own bow strung and ready.

Byleth raised an eyebrow at the noble. “It’s because of you guys that I’m not dead right now,” he answered her wordless question.

Byleth nodded, “Take up a position behind me. I will rush the first group that breaks through these trees.”

The boy had no problem taking orders from her, and Byleth watched as Jeralt ordered the boy in blue to position beside him with the cavalry and pikemen, and ordered the girl in red to follow Shamas’ direction with his axe wielding marauders – ex-pirates from south of Morfis, all of them – as they took up position in the woods opposite Byleth.

The first band to break the tree line were greeted with a hail of arrows. Byleth was impressed with the noble’s speed and aim. He had clearly received decent instruction, better than her own skill with a bow. She was only proficient enough to skewer a careless hare. Byleth rushed into battle at the same time as Shamas’ pirates and the white-haired girl who wielded a nasty looking axe of silver.

Her mind was blank as she sliced her sword across the stomach of a faceless man. Byleth never saw her foes’ faces in her battle haze. She never heard the clink of weapons clashing or the screams of dying men. When she stepped on the battlefield Byleth left her body and the Ashen Demon took over. A silver axe beheaded a man at her right and Byleth locked eyes with the white-haired girl’s own lilac ones. The woman said something, but her words fell on the deaf ears of the Demon.

As more bandits rushed their position, Jeralt’s cavalry charged. Byleth knew this dance well and moved around their mercenaries with ease, cutting down any man foolish enough to rush the expressionless swordswoman. The blue cloaked boy pushed back a bandit with a strength that dwarfed even her father’s and she grabbed the offending bandit, burying her sword in his back as the noble’s eyes widened in surprised. She saw thanks on his lips but turned away before he could say anything further.

Through the fighting, Byleth could make out the leader toward the back of band. Shaggy beard, and leathers that had seen less wear and tear than his man. He had his eyes on the white-haired girl in red who had cut the sword arm off another bandit clean off with her silver axe, spraying herself with his arterial blood. The leader rushed toward the surprised noble and Byleth took off at a sprint, jumping in front of the axe blow coming from above and closed her eyes. This was going to hurt.

“Are you stupid!” screamed a familiar voice and Byleth opened her eyes to see the dark chamber from her dream. There was the green-haired girl, once again sitting on her throne, her face furious as she glared at the warrior.

“I’m…not dead?”

“Not yet, you fool! What do you think you were accomplishing with that little stunt! Are you trying to get me killed!” The girl sighed, anger fading as she leant on the arm of her stone chair, looking tired. “Well, it’s fine. Afterall, if you don’t know the value of your own life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you? No wonder you need my guidance.” With that the girl stood and Byleth was able to take in her in fully.

The girl was barefoot, dressed in a long robe of foreign design that the warrior had never seen, not even in the strange city of Morfis. Her green hair fell to the floor like a cloak, those strange pointed ears poking through underneath a sort of ancient crown, gold long tarnished by time.

“My name is Sothis, but I am also known as ‘The Beginning’. Huh.” The girl, Sothis looked surprised by her own words. “Sothis. My name is Sothis. Who once called me that?”

“What are you talking about?” questioned Byleth, sheathing her sword. Wherever she was now it wasn’t the battle she had been.

“I was not able to recall my name until just now,” answered the girl as if that was the most normal thing to say. “That look on your face. Did you think me a child? Well, that ‘child’ just saved your life, so what does that make you?”

Byleth felt a smile ghosting behind her lips as she answered Sothis. “Less than a child.” Sothis laughed at her answer.

“Correct! You threw yourself before an axe to save just one young girl you don’t even know. Yet all is well, as I have stalled the flow of time for now. You would have died if I had not intervened.”

“Thank you.”

“There now, some gratitude. I did deem you worth saving, after all. How did I ever manage that…”

“What now?” asked Byleth, not interested in listening to Sothis ruminating on whatever magic it was she used to pull her here.

“When time begins, that axe is going to tear into your back, and you are going to die.” Sothis sighed dramatically. “How rude to bring me into this!”

“If you can stop time, surely you can turn it back.”

“Of course!” exclaimed the strange girl, clapping her hands together with a smile. “I must turn back the hands of time and you must not do something so damned foolish a second time around!” Without another word the girl clapped her hands and a blinding white light grew from her chest, making Byleth close her eyes.

“Make sure you protect yourself this time!” shouted the girl as Byleth felt herself returning to her body. Byleth felt blood splatter against her face and she turned. Once again, she saw the silver axe slicing the bandit’s sword arm clean off. Byleth started sprinting, sword ready and she leapt in front of the girl again, facing the bandit leader as he descended on them. Byleth pushed the girl to the dirt and dodged the man’s axe. Rolling to her feet she brought up her sword, cutting through the rain rotted wood of the handle. She kicked the leader clean in the chest with all the strength she could muster, and the large man flew back against his own guards.

“Fall back!” called the bandit leader, scrambling to his feet as he and his men ran back into the forest from where they came. The other two nobles ran over, the blond offering a hand to the white-haired woman, pulling her from the blood splattered dirt.

“Hey!” shouted Jeralt, climbing off his horse. Worry creased his brow as he came over, clearly wanting nothing more than to check Byleth for any injuries, but she waved him off.

“The Knights of Seiros are here!” bellowed a deep voice and Jeralt audibly groaned as a group of men in heavy, shiny plate crashed through the trees. A man in white plate came over to the them, relief on his face as he saw his noble charges. “The students appear to be unharmed. C-Captain Jeralt?!”

“It is you!” exclaimed the knight, beaming from ear to ear as her father sighed. “Don’t you recognise me? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man!” Byleth turned to her father, questions in her eyes. Her father commanded a knight? Why hadn’t he said anything about this before?

“It must have been almost 20 years since you disappeared. I always knew you were alive!”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Alois,” sighed Jeralt. “Just as loud as ever. I’m not your captain anymore and I have work to do. Goodbye.” Her father turned to leave, Byleth following. She was going to have some questions for him on the ride to Faerghus.

“Wait! I can’t just let you leave after all this time. I insist you return to the monastery with me!”

“I suppose this was inevitable,” sighed Jeralt, shoulders slumped. He caught Byleth’s eye, acknowledging her unspoken questions. He nodded to let her know he would answer them, but not here, not with strangers present. She accepted his answer as they turned back to the knight. “Fine. I will accompany you to Garreg Mach.”

“And, what about your companion.” Alois turned his eyes to Byleth. He looked surprised as he looked over properly for the first time, clearly taking in her age. “Is this your daughter?”

“He is a stranger to me,” answered Byleth, deadpan, making the knight chortle.

“Great sense of humour, this one. Clearly cut from the same cloth as the captain.”

“She is my daughter, and she will accompany me to the monastery, as will our men,” growled Jeralt, clearly annoyed by both his child and this knight.

“So long as you don’t run off again, Captain,” smiled Alois.

“Even I wouldn’t dare to run from the Knights of Seiros.”

 _The Knights of Seiros, hmm_. It was the girl again, just her voice sliding into Byleth’s thoughts as she returned to her horse. She grabbed a wet cloth offered by one of her comrades and wiped the blood from her face and sword. The rest of her was going to have to wait until they either made camp or arrived at Garreg Mach. _They seem rather well skilled and funded_.

 _What do you know about them?_ Asked Byleth silently as she mounted Mutt, giving the gelding a reassuring pat. A couple of her father’s cavalry had begrudgingly given up their horses to the three noble kids and the knight. She made a mental note to buy the volunteers a round of drinks once they were settled in at this monastery. Surely, there would be a village nearby and a tavern to keep them occupied.

 _No time. It seems you have company._ Byleth glanced up and saw the three nobles had taken to riding beside her.

“I appreciate your help back there. Your skill is beyond question,” said the pale girl in red. Her white hair was still splattered with dried blood, and her lilac eyes seemed to be evaluating Byleth. “You are clearly an experienced mercenary, and your father; Jeralt the Blade-Breaker?”

Byleth nodded. “Were you aware that he was the former captain of the Knights of Seiros? He was often praised as the strongest knight to ever live.”

“I do not know who the Knights of Seiros are,” answered Byleth.

“They are the most famous order of knights in all of Fόdlan.”

“Well, it seems you’re coming with us to the monastery,” smiled the dark skinned noble with green eyes. “We should mention, the three of us are students of the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing some field training exercises when those bandits attacked. I definitely got the worst of it,” he added with a feigned sigh.

“That would be because _you_ ran off,” interjected the pale girl with a sneer.

“Too true!” smiled the boy, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I was the first to make a strategic retreat. Everything would have worked out if these two hadn’t followed me and ruined everything. Because of them, every single one of those bandits chased after us. Utterly ridiculous.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were thinking, Claude,” said the blond boy, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He should just cut it, thought Byleth. Hair in his eyes would just be a problem in battle. “Here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of all.”

“His intentions were clear as day,” scoffed the girl in red. “You will prove a lacking ruler, Dimitri, if you cannot see the truth behind a person’s words.” The boy, Dimitri, grunted at her words.

“You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those you rely on.” Dimitri seemed quite sincere, like a puppy. However, Byleth had glimpsed something rabid beneath the surface during that skirmish.

“Oh joy,” sighed Claude, rolling his eyes. “A royal debate between Their Highnesses. I wonder how being completely predictable affects one’s ability to wield power. Personally, as the embodiment of distrust, I’d say you are both naïve,” he added with a wink for Byleth’s benefit.

“Me? Naïve?” scoffed the girl again, breaking that mask of refinery for just a moment. “Tell me, are you just incapable of keeping quiet, or is your complete lack of self-awareness a condition of some sort?”

“Forgive our digression,” interrupted Dimitri. “I would like to speak with you, if you can spare a moment. The way you held your ground against the bandits’ leader was captivating! You never lost control of the situation. It showed me I still have much to learn.” That was the truth as far as Byleth was concerned. They could all do with learning more battlefield awareness if that skirmish was any indication of their skill.

The white-haired girl nodded to her fellow’s words. “Your skill is precisely why I must ask you to consider lending your services to the Empire. I am no mere student. I am also the Adrestian Empire’s- “

“Halt, Edelgard. Please allow me to finish my own proposition,” interrupted Dimitri. He turned his blue eyes to Byleth. “The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of exceptional individuals like yourself. Please, do consider returning to the Kingdom with me.”

“Whoa, there! You two sure are hasty,” scolded Claude, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head at his companions. “Trying to recruit someone you just met. Tactless, really.”

“I was personally planning to develop a deep and lasting friendship on our journey back to the monastery before begging for favours,” he continued, looking Byleth in the eyes. She could see him trying to get her measure, looking at her like she was a puzzle to be figured out. “But it seems there is no time for niceties in this world. So, capable stranger, the point; where does your allegiance lie?”

“With my father,” answered Byleth. It wasn’t the answer either of the three really wanted, but Byleth was not about to throw her lot in with any ruler of some place she had never been. That was a sure way to find herself dead.

“A diplomatic answer,” smiled Claude as they continued riding on the road north. Byleth listened to the three nobles – well, one noble, a prince and a princess, apparently – as they talked about their respective countries.

Claude, the dark-skinned young man with green eyes and the golden cape was the heir of some high-ranking family in the Leicester Alliance to the east. Byleth was sure she had met someone from the Leicester Alliance in Morfis once, Holt, or Horst, or something like. He had been a general or something who fought with Almyrans all year long.

Dimitri, the blond and blue cloaked lancer was the heir to the Kingdom of Faerghus to the north. A lord in his Kingdom was the only reason that Byleth and her father had left Morfis at all. Whoever that man had been had gold to spare and Morfis contracts had dried up.

Edelgard, who still watched Byleth with that evaluating stare was the heir to the Adrestian Empire. The only experiences Byleth had with people of the Empire had been in the ride from Enbarr. The commonfolk were the same as any other commonfolk Byleth encountered, but the people in the capital were so haughty Byleth wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even shit.

“It will be your first time at time at the monastery,” smiled Claude as the morning rolled into the afternoon.

“I’d be happy to show you around,” offered Dimitri, with a small and genuine smile.

“It really is Fόdlan in a nutshell; the good and the bad,” added Claude.

“Like it or not, we’ll be there soon enough.” Edelgard’s tone was clipped, clearly annoyed to have been spending so much time on the road with her present company.

Finally, the tree line thinned and Byleth could see their destination. It looked more like a fortress than any Morfis academy or monastery. Square walls and pointed peaks. The architecture here was so jarringly different to the free city.

They followed the knights up the road and Byleth watched as the guards saluted Alois as they passed. There was a fantastic stable where Byleth was ordered to leave her horse. She petted Mutt on the nose and followed her father toward the tallest building in the monastery. The windows were taller than three men standing atop one another, the glass coloured and meticulously crafted into beautiful images that probably meant something to the people around her.

“Rhea,” whispered Jeralt beside her and Byleth followed his eyes to the very top of the building where she could just make out a figure looking down at them. All Byleth could make out was long pale green hair and white robes. They followed their escort into the building and up a flight of stairs.

“It’s been years since I last set eyes on this place,” muttered Jeralt as they were shown to a room with beautifully crafted statues lining the walls. Ten of them in total, two female and eight male statues who all appeared to wield different weapons or magics.

“So, you have been here before,” said Byleth as they were left alone in the room. Her father sighed and turned to face her with resignation in his eyes.

“I have never spoken of this to you before, but many years ago, I was a knight here. I reported to the Archbishop; Lady Rhea.” Byleth had already established as much with her conversation on the road to Garreg Mach.

“Lady Rhea?”

“The majority of folks in Fόdlan are devout followers of the teachings of Seiros. The leader of that ridiculously large religious organisation is the Archbishop, Lady Rhea.” Any further discussion on the topic was cut off as a door to their right opened and they were joined by two green haired people.

The first was a man with dark green hair that fell to the collar of his long black and gold tunic. There was the dusting of a beard on his jaw and his face was as unmoving and stern as the statues that lined the walls. Behind him, the woman all but glided into the room. She was the pale green haired woman who had watched them from her balcony. Her long white robe now had a decorative vestment over the top that matched the man’s tunic. Atop her hair was an elaborate gold and diamond crown that looked like it should be more difficult to walk under.

“I am Seteth, advisor to the Archbishop,” introduced the man, with a nod.

“Right. Hello.” Jeralt’s tone was clipped and agitated. He clearly didn’t like seeing the woman before them, but only Byleth seemed to be able to notice. The woman, Lady Rhea she guessed, didn’t even look at Jeralt. Instead her pale green eyes bored into Byleth’s as if she was looking for something behind them. Finally, she ripped her stare from Byleth and smiled softly at her father.

“It has been a long time, Jeralt. I wonder, was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this?”

“Forgive my silence all these years.” Jeralt bowed and Byleth contained her surprise behind the mask of the Ashen Demon. She’d never seen her father bow to anyone ever. “Much has happened since we last spoke.”

“So I see,” smiled Lady Rhea, turning her piercing eyes back to Byleth. “The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. This is your child, is it not?”

“Yes…born some years after I left this place. I wish I could introduce you to her mother, but I’m afraid we lost her to illness in Morfis.” That was more about mother than Byleth had ever managed to get out of Jeralt in all her life. It was also more about her age that Jeralt had ever seen fit to let her know. She was doing the math in her head silently.

If her father had last seen Alois around twenty years ago when he left the monastery and she was born after that, she must be somewhere in her late teens. Every one of the mercenaries made jokes about how she didn’t know her age, but by the time she could count the days of the wet and dry seasons in Morfis she was already a child and her father never told her the year of her birth.

“I see. My condolences.” Rhea glanced at Jeralt before turning her attention back on Byleth. “As for you, I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. What is your name?”

“Byleth.”

“I am Rhea, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. I am pleased to meet the daughter of one of my best former knights,” smiled the woman. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving those students of the Officers Academy.” Beside her, Jeralt sighed heavily.

“Jeralt. You already know what it is I wish to ask, do you not?”

“You want me to re-join the Knights of Seiros.” Jeralt looked over at his daughter. “I won’t say no, but…”

“Your apprehension stings. I had expected Alois to have already asked this of you. I will offer the hospitality of Garreg Mach to your men. No doubt you will have much to discuss. I will speak with you in the morning,” dismissed Lady Rhea. Byleth followed her father’s lead in bowing to the Archbishop and leaving the statue room. As the door closed behind them, Jeralt sighed.

“Forced back into the Knights of Seiros. I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” he added as they descended the stairs. Alois grinned from ear to ear, clapping Jeralt on the shoulder.

“Captain. Seteth sent orders to have your men housed in the barracks down by the marketplace. Your man Shamas has them settling in if you wish to check on them. I look forward to catching up with you shortly. Don’t forget to get lunch at the Dining Hall.” The man grinned and walked up the stairs, likely to make his own report to the Archbishop.

“Let’s get some food and talk, By.” Byleth followed her father as they walked through some gardens. She could tell they were moving in a similar direction to the stables, but to the building beside the extensive stables she had left Mutt. She hoped the monastery stable hands had fed him well.

The Dining Hall was loud with chatter. Byleth felt tense with so many strangers pressed around them until she saw Shamas at a table with their men. The man smiled and waved them over and Byleth just felt herself relax knowing she had allies here.

“Hey boss, we grabbed you guys a few spare bowls of stew.”

“Thank you, Shamas. It looks like we will be here for some time. I want you to make sure the men get some good rest tonight. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.” Shamas had worked alongside Byleth and Jeralt long enough to know when Jeralt was asking for some privacy with daughter. The man offered an informal salute and ushered the rest of the mercenaries off to the barracks.

“I’ll be stuck here for a while, By,” started Jeralt when they were interrupted by a messenger. The man saluted Jeralt and passed him a letter and her father scanned the words, narrowing his yellow eyes.

“And it appears your services are requested as well,” he added passing the message on to Byleth.

“As a mercenary?” she asked as she took the letter and scanned the perfectly written words. It was an official offer of employment from Lady Rhea as….a professor of the Officers Academy?

“They want you to teach, by the look of it. That damned Alois,” muttered Jeralt. “He must have gone and recommended you to Lady Rhea.”

“Excuse me, may we join you?” asked a woman’s voice, promising yet more interruption. She appeared to be in her thirties, but the sort of woman who would never disclose that to anyone. Beside her was a well-dressed, scholarly, middle aged man and they both took a seat without hesitation as Jeralt gestured for them to sit.

“You must be the new professor,” smiled the woman, eyeing Byleth’s father with poorly concealed attraction. “My, you are handsome, though.”

“Ah, no. I am not the one you are looking for,” answered Jeralt, clearly uncomfortable. Byleth smiled to herself at his answer. He turned to his daughter. “You can handle things from here. I want to check in on Shamas. Good luck.”

Her father abandoned her as a distraction for the woman. Byleth had never seen her father all that interested in any women who had shown interest in him over the years. Whoever her mother was, clearly Jeralt had never moved on from her loss.

“Oh, it’s you, then?” The woman’s brown eyes looked her over like she was competition. “So young…”

“Competence and age are not necessarily correlated, Manuela. As you well know,” scolded the older gentleman. “I am Hanneman, a Crest scholar and professor at the Offers Academy.”

“Crest?”

“Yes, we were told you have not spent much time in Fόdlan. I would be happy to discuss Crests with you at a later time. I am sure someone with your supposed skills is the bearer of one, if the gossip is to be believed. When next you have a moment to spare, I insist that you pay me a visit so we can delve into the subject further.”

“I’m Manuela,” introduced the woman, smiling now. “I am a professor, a physician and a songstress. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re a songstress?” asked Byleth. She had not heard much of Fόdlan music. In Morfis everyone sang, but on this side of the sea it seemed that only a select few people were deemed talented enough.

“Of course. Before I came here, I belonged to a renowned opera company. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? The Mittelfrank Opera Company’s beautiful, peerless –“

“Spare our colleague the needless details, Manuela.” Manuela scoffed at the man as she started to pick at her stew pouting. “Now then, it seems you’ll be taking charge of one of the Academy’s three houses. I expect you haven’t yet been briefed on the nature of each, have you?” Byleth shook her head as she ate her stew. This conversation was going to take some time and she wasn’t about to let her food get cold.

“Do you really not know?” questioned Manuela, almost shocked by Byleth’s ignorance. This was going to be something she was just going to have to get used to. She hadn’t been in Fόdlan more than a month. “Fine, I’ll do you a favour and explain.”

“The Officers Academy is comprised of three houses of students, each of which is closely affiliated with its region of origin. The Black Eagle House is for students of the Adrestian Empire. Their house leader this year is Edelgard, the Imperial princess, who is in line to be the next emperor.” Byleth remembered the white-haired girl with the diamond cut accent.

“The Blue Lion House is for students from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus,” continued Hanneman. “Their house leader this year is Prince Dimitri. He is to be the next king of Faerghus.” The boy with the blue eyes and blond hair too long.

“Lastly, is the Golden Deer House, which is for students of the Leicester Alliance. Their house leader this year is Claude, grandson to the Duke Reigan, the leader of the Alliance.” The boy with smirks and golden cape.

“To think that the next emperor, king and sovereign duke are all here. It certainly is a promising year for the Academy,” smiled Hanneman wistfully.

“I’ll say,” smiled Manuela. “I just hope none of those little…treasures…cause any trouble.” The songstress had caught herself before she spoke ill about their noble charges and Byleth was quietly amused by the slip.

“For now,” continued Hanneman, ignoring his colleague’s near slip, “I suggest taking a stroll around the grounds to get your bearings. When you have a moment, please stop by my research laboratory.” With that Hanneman left the table and Manuela sighed.

“The old man has a point. Oh, and keep in mind that I’ve only notified the house leaders of the new professor. It’s more fun that way,” she added with a wink. “I suggest you try spending time with the students. Some odd ducks in that bunch, but they’re good kids. Good luck; you’ll need it.”

With that, Byleth was finally left alone. She finished her meal in peace and decided that both of her fellow professors had a point. She needed to get her bearings at the monastery, and it would be a good idea to meet the students and get a feel for them. It was like getting new recruits for the mercenary company. Of course, she could hardly challenge every student to a duel to test their skills to get a feel for them in this place.

Byleth made her way through the gardens and found herself in a well-equipped training yard. There were students practicing in their free time. A grey-haired boy was practicing archery at the long range, a ginger girl in pigtails taking meticulous notes of his performance. A girl with a messy blonde braid was practicing lance forms while a red-haired boy attempted to help her with a form and got his hand slapped for the trouble. An older girl with long pale hair watched on as a tall tanned man holding a training axe and a slim indigo-haired boy wielding a training sword sparred against Prince Dimitri and a training lance.

“There she is; the mercenary who saved my life,” smiled Dimitri as he saw Byleth, blocking the indigo-haired boy’s attack and stepping back from the training ring. He jogged over to her and took her hand bowing deeply as all eyes turned on her. “It is good to see you again.”

“No way, you’re a mercenary,” exclaimed the girl in pigtails as she looked up from her notes. “You’re way too pretty.”

“I supposed you will be joining the Officer’s Academy as well,” smiled the girl with long white haired. Her voice was soothing, making Byleth want to close her eyes and just drift away. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mercedes, and this is my best friend –“

“I’m Annette,” grinned the ginger. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It must be my lucky day today. Another beautiful woman joins the Academy,” smirked the red-haired man as he eyed Byleth up like she was a piece of prime cut beef at market. “I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier. Feel free to say hi whenever you like,” he added with a wink before being elbowed, hard, in the stomach by the girl with the blonde plait before she bowed to Byleth very formally.

“As a citizen of Faerghus, I thank you for what you did for Prince Dimitri,” greeted the girl.

“He did also say you were quite skilled,” interrupted the boy with indigo ponytail, brushing some stray strands out of his eyes. Why did none of these kids cut their hair properly? “He doesn’t just say things like that. I look forward to sparring with you and beating you.”

“Felix, must you always speak of fighting right away,” sighed the blonde girl. “You may call me Ingrid. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I’m Ashe,” smiled the boy holding the bow. “Great to meet you.”

“I am Dedue,” said the tall man, and man was the right word. He looked far too old be another student.

“Are you an instructor here?” asked Byleth. The man was as big as her father and he dwarfed the others. Except perhaps Sylvain.

“No. I serve the Prince. Words cannot express my gratitude for rescuing His Highness. Should you ever require my strength, please know I will hasten to repay this debt.”

“Ah…thank you.” Byleth wasn’t quite sure what else to say to the man, but that seemed to be enough for him.

“Please, everyone, you are crowding her. Let the woman breathe,” ordered Dimitri and the all backed off some. Felix tapped Ingrid with his sword to ask for a spar, while Sylvain rolled his eyes. Annette and Mercedes sat together talking quietly, while Ashe continued his bow practice. Dedue just watched Dimitri from a respectable distance, like a shadow.

“My apologies. I never did properly introduce myself after you came to our aid. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.” Dimitri bowed again, much more graceful than her earlier stilted bow to the Archbishop. “Of course, at the Academy I am simply a student. I have heard word you are to become a professor here. Delightful news. I still have much to learn, but I’m confident I could benefit greatly from your guidance. In any case, welcome to Garreg Mach. Did any of the Blue Lions catch your attention?”

“I would like to know more about everyone, but I think that will come in time,” answered Byleth. There, just there, she saw something behind the prince’s eyes. There was something off about him, for all he tried to hide it behind his smile and chivalry. It reminded her of more than one mercenary she had known to go off the deep end. It sparked an immediate concern in the soon-to-be professor. Perhaps, he was the one who would need her guidance the most.

“I still have to find the Black Eagle and Golden Deer Houses and introduce myself. However, regardless of my decision in the morning, I will always be free to spar with you and your House. I think I might be the only one of the three professors with real life combat experience and I would be happy to teach anyone who wants to learn.”

Dimitri smiled at her and pointed at Felix and Ingrid as they sparred. “I guarantee you both Ingrid and Felix will take you up on that offer. I will let you go back to your exploration. Hopefully, I will see you tomorrow, my lady,” smiled the young prince as he took her hand and place a chaste kiss on her knuckles. Byleth felt her ears warm with embarrassment at the gesture and left the training yard to seek out the other houses.


	2. The Blue Cubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I care only to improve my melee skills.”
> 
> “Keep going,” ordered Byleth. She locked eyes with Felix as he continued to glare at her.
> 
> “No.”
> 
> “Fine. Useless at anything that isn’t a sword, next; Blaiddyd.” Ingrid and Sylvain both snickered behind their hands and Felix glared at Byleth, but she ignored him. He could either participate or fail his year. It was up to him and she wasn’t the right teacher if he wanted to be babysat.

Byleth had made her choice when Hanneman and Manuela kindly offered her first choice for a House to lead. Claude’s Golden Deer House would be like herding cats and the Black Eagle House smacked of noble self-importance that just made Byleth grind her teeth. As such she had decided to take on the most physically dedicated House, choosing the Blue Lions in the hopes that they would appreciate her combat experience more than the students of the bow and magic heavy Golden Deer and Black Eagle students. She had made the same offer to those students she had initially made to Dimitri; anyone who wanted instruction in melee would be more than welcome to attend a sparring session on their free day.

Today, however, would be her first day as a professor of the Officer’s Academy. Byleth pulled her dark blue hair into a ponytail and threw her black cloak around her shoulders. She set her mind at ease with the knowledge that none of these kids had ever really been in battle and that was something she could teach.

Byleth walked into the Blue Lion’s homeroom, still empty for the moment and sat herself at her desk at the head of the classroom as she arranged her notes and waited for her students to start filling in. Hanneman had been kind enough to lend her his own coursework notes to help guide her teaching. Today would be more of a feeling out day to figure out their strengths and weaknesses, and how best to guide them.

“Professor!” Byleth looked up from her notes, and saw Dimitri smiling satisfied that she had chosen his House. “I’m very glad –“

His words were cut off as the rest of the class came through the door. All seven of his fellow students looked stunned to see Byleth seated behind the professor’s desk. She rose from her seat and came to stand before her desk.

“Wait,” exclaimed Annette, turning pink under her ginger bangs. “Does this mean our professor is…No, I really can’t believe it! But I was speaking to you so casually, as though we were companions,” squealed the girl, mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry, Professor! You just look the same age as the rest of us and…Oh! I’m sorry I just said that, too. I really –“

“Please, relax, Annette.” Byleth remained calm as the girl tried to reign in her breakdown. “I do not mind if you talk to me like anyone else.”

“You say that, but,” muttered the girl, all, but hiding behind her friend, Mercedes.

“Sure, but if the professor says it’s okay, shouldn’t that be enough?” interjected Sylvain with an easy smile. Byleth found herself silently thanking the young man. “That is…if Your Highness can consent to such a thing. After all, we’re already speaking this way to our future king, so we may as well relax our speech with our professor too, right?”

“Well, we’re not in the Kingdom,” agreed Dimitri. “It only goes to follow that we should all speak companionably. If the professor says it is fine, we ought to accept her wishes.” Ingrid shuffled uncomfortably behind Sylvain, murmuring something to herself that Byleth couldn’t quite catch.

“We don’t have to force ourselves if it’s too difficult, though. You’re fine with that too, right, Professor?” asked Mercedes, calmly. Byleth nodded. It wasn’t something she was comfortable with, but if they felt more comfortable being formal, she would accept it.

Felix took a seat at a desk at her far right, leaning on his chosen desk. “Having heard of your skills, I am only eager for a chance to spar with you. I hope you will come to the training ground later to show me what you are capable of.”

Dimitri took the desk directly in front of her own, beside Felix, much to the latter’s visible chagrin. “You aren’t wasting any time, are you, Felix? As it were, count me in for any such session,” he added looking up at his professor earnestly. Felix merely grunted in response to the prince and Byleth made sure to make a mental note of that as Dedue silently took the other seat beside His Highness.

“Pardon me,” piped up Ashe, in the desk behind Dedue. “I would also love to observe you in battle, for future reference. If that’s OK with you…”

“Ashe,” admonished the prince. “I won’t have you speak of merely watching. You should join as well.”

“If anyone gets injured, simply say the word and I’ll patch you up straight away,” giggled Mercedes as she sat down with Annette in the third row, behind Sylvain, who leant back in his seat, balancing on two legs.

“Is there not something inherently wrong with crossing blades as a way to bond with each other?” asked the redhead of the room.

“Huh, I never thought of it that way,” smirked Ingrid as she took the seat between Sylvain and Ashe, pushing his seat down to sit solid on the ground. “If that’s how you feel, I suppose you’ll just stay behind when the rest of us are at the training ground?”

“Ingrid, my dearest friend,” sighed Sylvain melodramatically. “You really are too harsh on me.”

“Your Highness do take care not to go overboard,” warned Dedue, making Dimitri shake his head.

“You worry too much, Dedue. I’ll be fine. I promise you, Professor, you’ll find no House who works harder.”

“I can see that. I will be more than happy to spar with you all this afternoon. Even if you are more inclined to range combat you will need to know how to defend yourselves against melee,” remarked Byleth. “I do not know you all very well, and so Hanneman was kind enough to provide me with a simple skill sheet for you all. I want you to mark yourself as to where you think are for each skill, and which ones you are looking to improve upon. After the first month I will give you my own score and we will discuss your goals in the second month. How does this sound to you?”

“That sounds fantastic,” smiled Dimitri, at the exact same time that Byleth could have sworn Felix muttered “Useless” under his breath. Byleth chose to ignore the latter and handed out the sheets to the class, allowing them each several minutes to fill in their paper.

Byleth knew all too well her own strengths and weaknesses. While Jeralt never had her fill in a sheet for it, he did have multiple discussions with her about her training and where she needed improvement. It seemed as good as any a place to start.

“So, I will go first so you can all be alleviated of the idea that I somehow know everything there is to know,” began Byleth.

“I’m an exceptional swordsman and brawler, and decent with an axe and lance. I can shoot a bow well enough to eat, but not nearly well enough in battle. I cannot do magic of any kind, but I am interested in white magic. I have always had a natural talent for battle strategy, and this translates to commanding battalions. I only ever wear light armour for speed of movement, so I’m afraid I have no skills to impart for anyone interested in heavy armour. I can keep myself on a horse and have never attempted a Pegasus or wyvern. Now you will also tell us all your skills as I have. We will start with Fraldarius.”

The boy glared at her for volunteering him first.

“I care only to improve my melee skills.”

“Keep going,” ordered Byleth. She locked eyes with the boy as he continued to glare at her.

“No.”

“Fine. Useless at anything that isn’t a sword, next; Blaiddyd.” Ingrid and Sylvain both snickered behind their hands and Felix glared at Byleth, but she ignored him. He could either participate or fail his year. It was up to him and she wasn’t the right teacher if he wanted to be babysat.

The rest of class went through their self-assessments without the same difficulties as Felix. Dimitri was skilled in lance, sword, strategy, and had an interest in horse-riding. Dedue was skilled in lance, axe, brawling and heavy armour and admitted to a fear of horses that made Byleth want to smile. Ashe was skilled with an axe and bow and wanted to learn about the lance and either riding or flying to be a good knight. Ingrid was trained in sword, lance, riding and flying with an eye toward becoming a Pegasus Knight in the Kingdom. She went scarlet when she said that out loud. Sylvain claimed skill at the lance, axe and riding; going on to add tea, which Byleth steadfastly ignored. Annette could wield an axe and black magic and studied strategy at the Royal School of Sorcery. Mercedes was proficient in both black and white magic and professed an interest in archery.

“Thank you, everyone. You may go to lunch. After lunch, meet me in the training grounds and we will get to work on testing your melee attacks and defences. These will be every afternoon as they are important for everyone. Most importantly, I will be making my choices for the upcoming mock-battle with the Golden Deer and Black Eagle Houses at the end of the week based on these sessions. You are dismissed.”

The class filtered out and Byleth turned to clean up the papers left on her desk. Perhaps she could have Manuela or Hanneman help with the girls who needed more magic tutelage, and maybe pair the students up based on their interests to teach one another the skills they already had. When she turned around Felix was still in the room, arms crossed and furious.

“Oh, Fraldarius. I didn’t see you there.”

“Evidently. What was the purpose of this exercise?” huffed the teen.

“I told you the purpose. I wanted to know your proficiencies.” Byleth did not like the boy’s tone at all and had the overwhelming urge to punch him after only a couple hours in his presence. Unfortunately, problem-solving with a mercenary company was very different to problem-solving in an Academy full of noble children.

“Why make us say it aloud?”

“You don’t think your comrades-in-arms should know your strengths and weaknesses?” Byleth shoved her books into her bag and went to the desks to collect the students’ skill sheets. “On the battlefield, do you think that if Sylvain is injured, he should go to you or to Mercedes? Who should he trust to save his life? Or if Ingrid spots archers too far for her to get there in time? Should she call for Dedue or Annette? In order to fight together, you need to know who you are fighting with and what they can do. Better to admit a weakness now, then to be the cause of someone’s death later.”

“Hmph.” Byleth turned to him, much closer than she had expected him to be. The boy was light on his feet. “Here is my sheet.” He handed her his filled in paper and stalked out of the classroom. She looked down at the paper and felt a smile touch her lips ever so slightly. Felix was interested in black magic.

Lunch in the Dining Hall was an animated affair. Byleth had attempted to grab a seat on her own, in order to start planning how she could pair off the students in her house for peer-to-peer training. Her students, namely, Mercedes, had other ideas.

“Do you mind if we join you, Professor?” asked the young woman, with Annette hot on her heels. She couldn’t find it in her heart to send them away and the girls sat opposite their professor, beaming from ear to ear.

“Where are you from, Professor? I hope you don’t mind, but I notice your accent isn’t from Fόdlan,” asked Mercedes as she picked at a fruit salad smothered in honey.

“I grew up in Morfis, south and east of the Empire.” Annette’s eyes went wide.

“Wow. What was Morfis like?”

“Hot. There are only two seasons in Morfis, not like here in Fόdlan. There is the wet season, when typhoons blow in from the sea and rains for weeks on end. Then, there is the dry season where the wind blows in from the desert and causes dust storms if it goes on too long. It was home, though.”

“Is it true that the city is magic?” asked Annette, clearly interested.

“I don’t know. It’s a very old city and I don’t think anyone, even the High Archon really knows everything about it. One old merchant I met there told me the city was founded by a tribe of dragons, and it seems as good an explanation as any. Plenty of odd things just happen in the city and you get used to all the weird stuff. It was a shock when I first landed in Enbarr and the streets didn’t light up at night.”

“I take it you don’t mean lanterns?” clarified Mercedes and the professor shook her head.

“No. The actual pavement glows at night in Morfis.”

“That sounds lovely,” remarked the white mage with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Hey, don’t hog the professor all to yourselves,” interrupted Sylvain, not even asking before taking a seat next to her with a smile.

“Ignore him, Professor. I certainly do,” advised Ingrid as she sat beside Mercedes. “What are you talking about?”

“Morfis,” answered Annette. “That’s where the professor grew up.”

“Huh, I know I read a story about Morfis, but I can’t remember what it was a called…” Ingrid’s words trailed off as she tried to remember.

“The Silver Flower,” answered Ashe with a smile as he sat down beside Annette. “I actually have the library’s copy if you wanted to read it, Ingrid.”

“Thanks, Ashe. I would love that. I haven’t read that book in years!” The blonde smiled as she delved into her heaped plate.

“Haven’t read what book in years?” asked Dimitri as he joined them, sitting on Byleth’s other side, closely followed by Dedue’s ever-silent presence. At this point the professor wanted to roll her eyes. Surely, they’d get sick of eating with her soon enough and she could bear it for another few weeks while the novelty wore off.

“The Silver Flower,” answered Byleth and Dimitri looked confused. “Mercedes asked where I was from, and we got on the topic of Morfis and it just….sort of devolved from there.”

“I am also not from Fόdlan, Professor,” said Dedue. He didn’t seem to have any sort of follow up to that and Byleth just shook her head quietly amused.

“Of course, how silly of me,” smiled Dimitri, as he picked at his salad. “I had just assumed that as Captain Jeralt’s daughter –“

“Woah!” gasped Ingrid. “Captain Jeralt Blade-Breaker is your father?”

“Yes,” nodded Byleth as she finished her stew. “We just call him Jeralt Eisner, though.”

“I am willing to bet you have some amazing stories, Professor,” smiled Ashe, clearly as excited as Ingrid, but better at reigning it in. Byleth shrugged.

“Nothing I would consider all that amazing. We were just mercenaries –“

“In Morfis,” added Mercedes.

“Where the pavement glows at night,” agreed Annette with a grin.

“And I bet it’s hot,” added Sylvain, earning an elbow in the ribs from Ingrid. They all started asking questions at once and Byleth felt an actual flutter of momentary panic.

“You are late for sparring.” Felix’s words were like a bucket of ice water over the excitement of the table. The students, except for Dedue who was eyeing Dimitri’s untouched plate with consternation, turned to Felix with glares, but he only looked at the professor. Byleth was profusely thankful for the interruption personally and nodded.

“Of course, Fraldarius. Hurry up everyone. I will meet you all at the training grounds in five.” With that she took her leave and walked toward the training ground, Felix deciding to join her for the stroll.

“You don’t have to come with, Fraldarius. Surely you’d rather join your friends for the last few minutes of break.”

“Hardly. They will just gossip about you for the next five minutes and I don’t care to theorise what your life in Morfis was like.” Had he been sitting nearby the whole time, listening in? It was both a little endearing and a little sad. No one else had any qualms about joining in with the conversation. Did Felix hold himself apart because he was scared his companions would reject him? Surely not, thought Byleth. Sylvain, Dimitri and Ingrid all appeared to know and be friendly with young man. _Maybe he is scared they will leave him_ , offered Sothis.

“You are staring. Stop that.”

“My apologies. I was lost in thought,” said Byleth as they rounded the corner to the training ground. Growing up, her father or his mercenaries had just trained with her on any bit of vaguely flat ground they happened to be camped by. She had fallen on rocks, branches, and more often sand, her whole life. This training ground had no rocks or branches, but the surface was far less forgiving on a fall than sand. At least it would also be less treacherous on footwork.

“Choose your weapon, Fraldarius,” ordered Byleth, heading to the rack of training swords and testing their weight. Her own sword, a birthday gift from her father some years back, was a hand and a half blade. She could wield it with one hand after years of training, but also with two when extra strength was called for. Byleth found a wooden sword that felt right; the right weight and balance to mimic the sword she had carried the past five years.

Felix on the other hand favoured a slimmer sword, built for speed, not strength. If he’d had the right training, he should be able to make two strikes for every one of Byleth’s own, but she knew just how fast her own swordplay was. It would be interesting to see if he lived up to his words.

Byleth could hear the students rushing in, not wanting to miss the anticipated sparring session. She took her stance, lowering her centre of gravity almost to a crouch as Felix remained standing, with his feet shoulder width apart, both turned to the side. She felt herself begin to smile. It seemed they had learned some very different styles, and that would make the fight interesting.

Felix lunged on the offensive, and Byleth blocked his stabbing blow for her chest. His strength was surprising, and she felt herself stagger back a step. He was quick to take advantage, leaping toward her with another lunge she was quick to block. He came at her with a flurry of swings and there was nothing in her mind except the sound of the wood moving through the air as she deftly blocked his blows. There was a glimpse of an opening and she took it, moving with a speed Felix had not expected as she swung the sword at him again and again in a loop that only seemed to build on strength with each deflected blow.

As Byleth plunged her sword forward, Felix grabbed and twisted her wrist with his free hand, leaving her open for his own swings. She bent back to dodge each oncoming swing, before levelling a kick at his sword hand, forcing him to free hers in surprise. As he staggered back, she swept her foot at his ankles, depositing him the hard-packed dirt of the training ground floor. Looking up at her blue eyes he felt her wooden sword against his throat, a ghost of a smile on her lips. It was the first glimpse of emotion anyone in the class had seen from their professor before the ring broke out in applause.

“I yield,” growled Felix.

“You’re good, Fraldarius, but you are too restrained by noble rules of combat. In a real battle you can’t hold back, or you will die. I can guarantee that if you are toe to toe with a man holding cold steel in his hands, he has absolutely no intention of playing by the rules of nobility.” The words floored Felix. No one had ever accused him of playing by the rules of nobility before. All his previous instructors had lamented his aggression, not his restraint. None had spent their lives as mercenaries fighting every day in order to live, however.

“Masterfully done, Professor,” congratulated Dimitri, as she offered her hand to Felix to help him stand. He took it, noting how cool her skin was even after a fight, and levelled a glare at the prince.

“You just volunteered for the next round, Your Highness,” countered Byleth, handing Felix back his sword. The prince was more than eager as he all but bounced into the ring with a training lance in hand.

Byleth once again crouched low, watching Dimitri with those empty dark eyes. This time Felix had a chance to watch her performance, and a performance it was. She was like a dancer on a stage as the stronger man lunged at her, his blow deftly redirected. Byleth was careful not to take Dimitri head on, instead always dancing to the side of his lance, or redirecting his lunges rather than blocking them outright. Clearly, she’d had some measure of his strength before this spar and Felix thought that perhaps the Boar had not been telling stories when he had described the bandit attack.

Byleth danced over the lanced as Dimitri made to sweep her feet out from under her, taking the opening to slice at him, connecting her wooden sword with his side. She was careful not to hit the prince at full strength, pulling her blow at the last minute, but he looked surprised at her speed. She saw that switch flick behind his eyes, and he was on the offensive again, but a lot more aggressive with each blow.

He swung the lance at her, again and again, like what she had done to Felix, and that kept her moving backward. One blow was too fast for her, and she barely had time to block it and it connected with the fingers of her hand, shooting pain up her arm. Byleth’s expression never changed as she changed sword hands. She preferred her right, but her father had diligently drilled her with her left and Byleth knew she could still take the prince on her off-hand. She just had to flip her own switch.

Byleth moved faster, this time taking his blows head on with her sword and pushing back against the strength of the Blaiddyd Crest. Dimitri lunged and Byleth bent backward with a flexibility that made Sylvain whistle through his teeth as she pushed up with her sword against the lance and the lancer’s strength. With both hands she pushed the lance off her and rolled to her side as Dimitri used the lance like an axe. Dedue made to move in and intervene, but Ingrid put out a hand to stop the Duscar man.

“She would hardly be a professor if she couldn’t handle this. Leave it.”

The dance continued until finally Byleth brought her wooden sword down on the lance with such strength the wood splintered in two. The woman was quick, tackling Dimitri to the ground, pinning his legs with knees, one arm pinned with her right hand, the other with her left elbow as she held the wooden blade to the prince’s throat. The prince laughed, the sound echoing across the silent ring.

“It seems I have no choice, but to yield, Professor.” Byleth nodded, jumping up to her feet in one motion.

“I’d offer you a hand up, Your Highness, but I think you might have broken a finger or two,” grimaced the Professor as she massaged her right hand. Dimitri’s face fell as Mercedes rushed over to inspect the hand.

“I am deeply sorry, Professor. I did not mean to injure you,” said Dimitri, feeling ashamed for letting the battle overtake his senses like that. The woman waved him off.

“It is nothing. I merely misjudged your speed, Dimitri. Mercedes will have me fixed up in no time.” Mercedes was gentle in her ministrations, and Byleth felt the white magic wash over hand like cool water. She wondered if her student would be willing to teach her how to do this. White magic would be an invaluable skill for a mercenary.

“Thank you, Mercedes. I appreciate the help.” The older girl smiled at her instructor, pleased for the praise.

“You are an excellent lancer, Your Highness. You have the strength for it and a speed most won’t expect from a man holding a stick half as tall as he is. You, however, lost control of your own aggression. You need to step out of the battle haze, see it, but not be consumed by it. If this were a real battle, with multiple enemies, you would not notice them until they stabbed you in the back. One on one, it was just my years of experience that had me come out the victor. Wherever possible, duel instead of battle; I guarantee you’d win every war,” she added, and Dimitri flushed at her words, half praise and half criticism.

“Not if his opponent was you,” laughed Sylvain, patting Dimitri on the back good naturedly.

“Let’s see if you’re half the lancer your future king is, Gautier.”

“Certainly not,” laughed the redhead as he joined her in the ring. “But I am twice the fun,” he added with a wink, and Byleth ignored his words, simply crouching yet again for another round.

By the time the monastery bells rang signalling for dinner, Byleth had duelled each of her students and she got a measure of each of the strengths and weaknesses in battle.

Sylvain was a loose and fluid fighter but had no real drive in him to win; a real battle would change that very quickly. Ingrid was determined to win, but easily flustered when things didn’t follow the proper forms she had spent her life perfecting. Ashe was eager to well but had no real battle training as an archer, but he had the dexterity to avoid blows if Byleth wasn’t coming at him at her full speed. Dedue was a competent if unimaginative axe-wielder, relying more on his size and strength which led him to move too slow. Annette was surprisingly fast with an axe for a girl so little, and her black magic would certainly come in handy if she could push back her opponent, but she was easily flustered once Byleth got in her face. Mercedes just wasn’t a fighter at all, if anything she seemed to fear it and Byleth would need to break her out of that.

As the bells rang, she gathered her House to remind them of the mock battle coming up. “My preliminary choices for this battle are as follows; Blaiddyd, Fraldarius, Gautier, and Dominic. You have only one week to change my mind by showing me you deserve this over someone I have named. Dismissed.”

Byleth was tired, sweaty and her muscles screamed for relief. Manuela had said there was a bath in the monastery, somewhere near the dormitories and the professor was determined to find it and spend the rest of night soaking in hot water. She hadn’t had a real bath since Morfis, almost three months ago if she was counting her days right.

She put away the various training weapons left out, surprised when Dimitri helped her clean up. “Thank you, Dimitri.”

“I am sorry, again, about your hand,” stammered the prince, going red under her baleful stare.

“I already said it was nothing.” She flexed her hand and wiggled her fingers in the boy’s face. “See, no lasting damage. Besides, you’re the one who lost to a swordsman fighting with only one hand, and the off-hand at that,” she added, teasingly. The boy chuckled at her words.

“I guess you’re right about that. It seems I have a lot more work to do before I can best you with your sword arm.”

“True of all of your fellow students,” assured Byleth. “Dimitri, Manuela mentioned something about a bath in the monastery grounds. Do you happen to know where it is?”

The boy’s face started turning red at her question. “Ah, yes, Professor. I can escort you, of course.”

“Thank you,” said Byleth, choosing to ignore his embarrassment. Teenage boys were easily flustered in her experience and calling attention to it would only make matters worse. “They really need to start handing out maps if they’re going to keep hiring foreign mercenaries to teach the students,” she added, attempting to distract him from his embarrassment. It seemed to work as Dimitri laughed.

“I have only been your student for a day, Professor, I can only personally endorse the move if the Church decides to continue the practice. Today’s training was…very different from anything we have had before, certainly different from the instructors I had growing up.”

“I doubt my sort of instruction would be very welcome in the Royal Palace, or any castle for that matter. Can’t be bruising noble heirs and all that.”

“I can only imagine that in Sylvain’s case, Professor, it would have led to an improvement in disposition,” smiled Dimitri as he walked beside her. Byleth recognised the building now, so close to her own apartments and she felt relief.

“I just need to grab a fresh change of clothes. Thank you for showing me where the baths, Dimitri. I appreciate it.”

“Any time, Professor.” That pink tinge had crept back up his neck and Byleth fled the awkwardness as fast as was polite. She grabbed a fresh pair of pants and linen shirt and made with all hast to the bath. She felt disgusting a bath would be the first step to feeling human again. Morfis had really spoiled her rotten.

“Professor!” Byleth looked up from her undressing to see Hilda waving to her from the communal baths where she sat with Marianne and Dorothea. Byleth waved back as she continued to remove her layers of sweat soaked and dirt encrusted clothing before she sunk into the hot water.

“We were just discussing how disappointing it was you didn’t choose our Houses,” smiled Hilda. “Well, not for me. I’ve heard about your little sparring session and I think I dodge an arrow there. I have no fighting skills whatsoever.”

“Oh, Hilda, that isn’t true,” admonished Dorothea with a shake of her head. “You’re just lazy.”

“Lazy? I’ll have you know I am excellent people manager, Dorothea.” Byleth just closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than soak, preferably in silence, for several hours.

“I am going to go,” murmured Marianne to Hilda and Byleth felt the water shift as the quiet girl left the bath.

“I think it’s also time for me,” added Dorothea and Byleth heard Hilda sigh as both girls left the bath. She was finally free to lay in the hot water in peace and let her muscles relax.

The Blue Lions were going to be work, but they all seemed eager to please – too in eager in all the wrong ways in Sylvain’s case. Byleth hoped that drive would be ignited by this little competition to get on the mock-battle squad. She also hoped that in the next week she should be able to settle who should work together as sparring partner. The thought of trying to get Felix to spar with anyone else would be a challenge unto itself. Maybe she could just partner him with Dimitri and hope they didn’t kill each other.

Byleth sighed, sinker deeper into the hot water. That was another Byleth’s problem. This Byleth had nothing to do but poach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter, and to everyone who left kudos. I hope you enjoyed the second chapter just as much.


	3. The First Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My swordsmanship is –“
> 
> “Decent,” finished Byleth as Felix all but growled at her. “And I am better than you at that. Since I am required to be in the mock-battle, tell me why do I need another dedicated swordsman? I told you to abandon your restraint. You have not done this.”
> 
> “No other instructor has ever accused me of restraint before.”
> 
> “Those instructors were teaching you how to wield a sword. I am trying to teach you how to survive a battle.”

It was the day before the mock-battle and the class was looking at her with those expectant puppy dog eyes for her final call on the mock-battle squad. The competition had gone better than she could have expected. Everyone, including Mercedes, had made a concerted effort to get themselves on the roster. The names had been switched out almost every day, but she finally had her four for tomorrow’s exercise.

“Blaiddyd.” No one seemed surprised that Dimitri’s name was first. He had worked on his tendency to hyper-focus throughout the week and had taken the time to help instruct Ingrid on some more freeform technique. It was nothing less than expected of the future King.

“Dominic.” Annette had been one of her first choices, and the young girl had only improved. She was not content to sit in her top spot and wait it out. She had worked hard at her magic with Hanneman through the week and axe practice with Ashe when she could. She would be a formidable mage one day. Right now, she threw her fists in the air with joy.

“Duran.” Ashe had been a pleasant surprise. He really pushed himself all week, training long into the night, often with Annette or Dedue – who had helped train the archer in the axe. It was the axe-wielding that had really pushed him over the edge for this one. Ashe had a gift for archery but combined with the axe he was formidable both at range and up close. The boy beamed with pride to have his name called.

“Galatea.” Ingrid had certainly earned her spot. She trained tirelessly with Dimitri, and even Sylvain when she could. She had quickly outpaced both of her friends on footwork, and she had abandoned her need to rely on established forms. The girl had a small satisfied smile on her face as the class was dismissed.

Fraldarius was furious. Byleth knew he would be and wasn’t surprised at all that he stayed behind to berate her about her choices. The truth was, he just hadn’t done anything to impress her. He had come to rely on being the best blade around, and with Byleth there, that just wasn’t the case for the Blue Lions anymore.

“How am I not good enough for the mock-battle, Professor?” Felix all but spat her title like it tasted bad in his mouth.

“You’re a decent swordsman, Fraldarius, but that’s all you are.” He narrowed his eyes at her, ready to interrupt, but Byleth held up a hand to stop him.

“Dimitri has taken over training some of your fellow students, particularly, Ingrid, in the lance. He has shown a skill at command without being asked to. Annette, also without being asked to, has developed her melee skill alongside her already formidable talents in black magic if Hanneman’s reports are to be believed. Ashe has greatly improved his abilities with a bow at close quarters and taken the time to work at his skill with an axe, making him now effective from both behind and in the front line. And Ingrid has shed her rigidity and with a lance is as fast as you are with a blade; quite the feat for any lancer. What have you worked on, Fraldarius?”

“My swordsmanship is –“

“Decent,” finished Byleth as the boy growled at her. “And I am better than you at that. Since I am required to be in the mock-battle, tell me why do I need another dedicated swordsman? I told you to abandon your restraint. You have not done this.”

“No other instructor has ever accused me of restraint before.”

“Those instructors were teaching you how to wield a sword. I am trying to teach you how to survive a battle.” Byleth sighed. Perhaps he needed more direction than she had first expected. “In your self-assessment you stated you had an interest in black magic.” The boy’s ears went pink with embarrassment, but Byleth continued ignoring his discomfit.

“However, I haven’t seen you do anything to grow that interest. Hanneman is a capable instructor and Annette would have no qualms about tutoring you. Yet, you continue to rely on a single skill. If you want to win tourneys and honour as a noble swordsman, then continue as you are. If you want to step on a battlefield and survive, Fraldarius; grow your skillset.”

With that, Byleth left the training ground to let Felix think on her words. Oh sure, he would probably take out his frustrations on a training dummy for an hour or two, but maybe after….maybe, he might just get what it is she has been trying to do this week with everyone.

After her bath, Byleth retired to her rooms, lighting a candle to work on her strategy for the morrow. Practice or not, she intended to treat this mock-battle as if it were as real as any other she had fought before. Even if she would be carrying a wooden sword and not her trusty steel blade.

A quiet knock at the door roused Byleth from a topographical map littered with her notes. She opened the door to see Annette, Dimitri, Ashe and Ingrid. Annette was positively humming with excitement.

“Hi, Professor. We wanted to see if you wanted to come down to the village for supper. We got a dispensation from Seteth and everything, so its totally above board. We just wanted to say thanks for this week, and –“

“We knew you would be staying up all night looking at strategies and thought you deserved a night of distraction,” interjected Dimitri, saving Annette from her own word vomit with a patient smile.

“There isn’t much you can do now to affect tomorrow’s result,” added Ashe, smoothing out wrinkles on his blue tunic.

“And we should all make sure we have enough to eat so we have the energy to win,” smiled Ingrid. Byleth shrugged, grabbing her cloak and left her room.

“You are right, all of you. A night off is called for and you should all be celebrating the work you’ve done to grow so much in a week.” Four sets of smiles greeted her as she locked her room behind her and followed them out of the dormitory.

“You should also celebrate being the one to instigate that change,” corrected Dimitri as they flashed their dispensation at the gate and walked under the portcullis. “I’ve never seen our companions so driven to learn new things and improve before. You’ve taught me much about leadership this week.” Byleth shrugged awkwardly. While she couldn’t argue with the results, she didn’t think she was doing anything special. She just didn’t know how else to teach people.

“You don’t need to be so modest,” exclaimed Annette, practically bouncing as they walked down the path to the village. “Between you and Professor Hanneman I have learned more in the past week than I did in four years at the School of Sorcery. The teachers there were really heavy on theory, but you make the lessons focus on practicality. I was terrified to do this mock-battle, let alone any real battle, but now I feel like I can handle it.”

“I agree with Annette, Professor,” nodded Ashe. “I could hunt with a bow and shoot down a range, but you made me practice moving and aiming at the same time. Standing still in a real battle would just get me killed.”

“You’re very different to the instructors I had growing up, learning the lance with Sylvain. They gave us good foundations, but you are building on that to make us real knights.” Byleth felt warmth in her chest at Ingrid’s words, at all their words. This whole week she had been anxious that she was falling short of the sort of instruction her students were used to in the Kingdom, but it was touching to know her students appreciated her different point of view on instruction.

Dimitri led their little group down into the village square, to a brightly lit tavern that was loud with chatter and musicians playing a lively jig in the corner. Some of the patrons were dancing and laughing, while others sat at tables telling stories or arguing. Byleth finally felt at home for the first time all week.

“Ah! The Demon finally fucking arrives!” shouted a familiar voice and Byleth turned to see Shamas, slightly drunk waving at her from a table of his fellow ex-pirates. She waved back and gestured for her students to follow her. The four kids looked nervous, but dutifully followed their professor to the table of roughnecks.

“Shamas, how have you been?” asked Byleth as she took a seat beside her friend. A few of his men were courteous enough to make space for the students as they joined the table.

“Getting fat and lazy in this fucking early retirement, By,” laughed the man, clearly a few cups deep into his night. “Can I order you an ale?”

“Probably not the best idea. I’m here with some of my students. Dimitri, Annette, Ashe, Ingrid; this is Shamas. He is one of my father’s best men and he commands this squad of pirates after we decided not to execute him, oh, seven years ago now.”

“And kept me in legitimate work, a full belly and warm bed the whole time. Pleasure to make your esteemed acquaintances,” smiled the pirate, bowing clumsily and setting off his men in a round of applause and laughter. “I can’t believe they have you teaching bloody kids.”

“You think it should have been you?” Byleth waved over a waitress and ordered some food for the table and a flagon of apple juice for herself and her students.

“Not a chance,” laughed Shamas. It was Ashe whose curiosity got the better of his nerves with the pirates.

“Sorry, you were a pirate?” asked the boy and Shamas grinned at the lad.

“Aye. I was the famous pirate king of Islalos; Shamas the Sword Swallower.”

“Sword Swallower?” questioned Ingrid, eyeing the man curiously as Dimitri passed her a cup of juice. “How did you get that name?” Byleth choked on her juice.

“Let’s not get into that,” interrupted Byleth as Shamas made to answer. Her rather innocent students didn’t need to know Shamas was just as famous Morfis for seducing the men of the High Archon’s court, specifically his son, as he was for plundering their trade routes. The man beside her laughed.

“Aye, it’s a story for another time, lass. I should be off anyway. These men have had a few too many ales and are like as not to get to brawling if I don’t round them up and march them on to bed.” With that Shamas made another flourished bow and turned his smile to Byleth. “And don’t be a stranger. The men need to see the Ashen Demon once in a while or they’ll think they just made her up.”

“Interesting fellow,” commented Dimitri diplomatically. He seemed to relax once the pirates left the tavern.

“He’s a shit, if I’m being honest, but I am fond of him,” said Byleth as she tore into a warm roll.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with pirates. Your life is amazing,” exclaimed Annette, awed and nervous at the same time. Byleth shrugged.

“I told you, it’s just my life. None of it seems all that interesting to me. Shamas and the boys haven’t been pirates in a long time. They don’t even have ships anymore. They were nothing more than a few desperate and hungry men with a boat. Thanks to Shamas they got to eat; just too bad their opportunities to eat involved piracy.” Dimitri stared at her and Byleth levelled her gaze at him. “You disagree, Your Highness?”

“No,” answered the prince hastily. He looked away from her, hiding behind his hair that still was too long and fell in his eyes. “I mean, I had never thought about it that way before; piracy, that is.”

“You spared him from execution?” asked Ashe, with a mouth full of stew.

“My father did. I was only a child at the time. He had gotten a contract from the High Archon himself to deal with the southern pirates. He wanted Shamas’ head. My father’s men took the ship and he managed to capture the famous pirate king.” Byleth realised all four of her students were hanging on her every word. “They talked and my father decided instead to recruit Shamas and his surviving men. Luckily, the High Archon had never met Shamas before so when my father presented him with the head of some other man who had died in the battle, he still paid us and Shamas got to live. He’s been a good and honest man ever since.”

Ashe was smiling warmly at her. “Your father sounds a lot like Lord Lonato. He took me in after he caught me stealing food for my siblings. Instead of punishing me, he gave us a home.”

“It is a lot harder to execute someone when you find out they are just trying to survive, same as you.” Byleth watched as the words sunk into the three noble children at her table. Somehow, she felt she had just taught them something without meaning to.

“I’m very thankful you chose to be our teacher, Professor,” smiled Dimitri sincerely and she felt a little awkward at the praise. Maybe it was time to change the topic.

“So, do you have any ideas about strategy for tomorrow’s battle,” pivoted the professor, leading Dimitri and Annette both to launch into a debate about strategies that distracted the table for the rest of the night. Ashe and Ingrid added their own opinions here and there, but Annette and Dimitri playfully debated their positions.

Dimitri cautioned a defensive strategy, expecting aggression from Edelgard and tricks from Claude, but Annette argued meeting aggression with an aggressive stance of their own to wipe Edelgard’s magic heavy class from the map before dealing with Claude and his archers. Byleth found she enjoyed just listening to the debate, occasionally adding her own two crowns to counter either student’s points when the other could not. It was a far better way to spend her night than pouring over maps and notes and arguing with herself all night.

In the morning her class was buzzing with excitement as they joined Hanneman and Manuela’s classes on the march to the outskirts. Felix was still sullen, but thankfully kept his bad mood to himself on the trip and Byleth had some time to talk to her fellow professors.

“Remember how I was telling you about my Crest research, Professor Eisner?” began Hanneman and Byleth nodded. She remembered that the older man was sure she carried one of these Crests, not that she knew much about it all. “While we are her, I’d like to use this device I designed to determine whether or not you truly do possess a Crest. It won’t hurt a bit. I promise,” he added as he pulled out some strange contraption from a pouch tied to his belt.

“What is a Crest, Professor Von Essar?” asked Byleth. A scholar dedicated to its study would be able to at least help explain what this foreign concept was.

“You don’t know about Crests? I guess that is fair, growing up in Morfis. “Is your calendar clear? A full explanation will take some time.”

“A summary should serve, Hanneman,” interjected Manuela with a huff.

“Crests are power, Professor,” continued Hanneman, ignoring his colleague. “They are said to have been bestowed upon humans by the goddess countless ages ago. They exist within the flesh and are passed down through certain bloodlines. Those with Crests may excel at magic, display exceptional strength, or any number of boons. For example, your student, Prince Dimitri, carries the Crest of Blaiddyd which bestows upon him his exceptional physical strength,” added the scholar and Byleth nodded. She’d had firsthand experience with that unforeseeable strength earlier in the week during their sparring session. “Each Crest has its own power, the nature of which is still currently a mystery; a mystery I have dedicated my life to solving.”

“And you think I carry such power?” asked Byleth, curious about this foreign magic. She’d never had cause to question her natural talents before, just assuming it was more to do with a lifetime of training than anything else.

“I suspect as much, yes,” nodded Hanneman, gesturing to the device in his hands. “We won’t know for sure unless I look into the matter. Even though Crests are passed down through the blood, having a Crest does not necessarily mean that your descendants will inherit is as well. Nor does not having a Crest preclude its existence in the bloodline. Your father does not carry a Crest, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t inherit it through his blood, or your mother’s line for that matter. Only a few scarce descendants of a Crest’s bloodline end up inheriting that Crest’s power.”

“Like hair or eye colour,” added Byleth, following along with the scholar as best she could. The man smiled.

“Exactly. Perhaps one of your ancestors bore a Crest, just as another bore your midnight green hair, and you just happened to inherit it.”

“I understand. I consent to you using your device to see whether or not I have one of those bloodlines if it will help your research,” assented Byleth. The whole thing didn’t matter to her one way or the other, but it seemed important to her colleague.

“Yes, of course.” Hanneman fiddled with a dial on his device and held it out to her. Byleth took the device and looked back up to the man for instruction. “Just hold your arm over the device and flick the switch on its side.”

Byleth freed Mutt’s reins, relying on her thighs to steer the horse as they followed the Knights of Seiros down the mountain path. She held her wrist over Hanneman’s device and flicked the switch. In her hands the device hummed as a soft purple light emanated from the surface against her arm. She didn’t feel anything as a series of criss-crossing, waving lines appeared over the device’s screen. Hanneman leant over, brows furrowed. It seemed that the answer provided by the device was not one the scholar had expected as he accepted his device back.

“What is this?” muttered the man, readjusting his monocle to look closer at the design.

“Not what you were expecting?” questioned Byleth.

“I’ve never seen this pattern before,” answered Hanneman, his eyes alight with the excitement of discovery as he looked back up at her. “Perhaps an as-yet undiscovered Crest has been detected? TO think there are still Crests out there I am unaware of! How thrilling!”

“Absolutely riveting,” muttered Manuela on Byleth’s other side.

“Thank you, Professor Eisner. You have given me much to consider.” Byleth nodded and noticed they had reached their destination. She dismounted, tying Mutt to a tree and giving the horse an apple from under her cloak for his troubles.

Dimitri greeted her; his uniform somehow still perfectly pressed despite the ride here. He looked excited by the prospect of putting his week’s lessons to use.

“It’s finally time. I’m eager to put my skills to use. And you, Professor?”

“I hope we can win,” she answered, adjusting her cloak over her shoulders. How was still cold with the sun shining down on them?

“I wouldn’t worry to much about it,” shrugged Dimitri, exuding the confidence she had come to expect of the boy. “If you command us as you did back in that village, I have no doubt that we will be victorious.”

“Hey there!” greeted Claude, strolling over to the pair with Edelgard in tow. Byleth had barely seen the other house leaders since she had started teaching. “Did we miss our invitation to this strategy meeting? No worries – we’ll just join in now,” smiled Claude.

“Nice try, Claude, but I do not intend to let slip our strategies. Especially when we are up against such strong opponents as you two,” retorted Dimitri, his face hiding behind his royal mask in the presence of his fellow leaders.

“Well now! Kind words from his kingliness,” laughed Claude, turning to address Edelgard. “If that’s the case, we’d better come up with some clever schemes so as not to disappoint. Right, princess?”

“Right,” agreed Edelgard, behind her own perfect mask. “No matter the tactics you devise, we will destroy you. The best thing you can hope for is to learn a thing or two.”

Dimitri laughed at his comrades. “There’s nothing wrong with a friendly rivalry, but let’s not get carried away. A rash attitude could be your undoing, after all.” This looked like another sparring session to Byleth; with words rather than fists or weapons. All a part of the same battle.

“Perhaps your time would be better spent preparing instead of worrying about the competition’s mindset,” countered Edelgard with a smile.

“Hey now,” interjected Claude. “If you two are getting this fired up before the battle even starts, you’re just making it that much easier for my class to sweep up a win.”

“A good point, Claude,” agreed Dimitri. “At any rate, let’s vow to make this a productive battle, shall we?” Byleth realised he had addressed his question to her.

“I do not intend to lose.”

“How precious,” cooed Manuela, joining them at Edelgard’s side. “Looks like you and the students have become fast friends.” Yet another dig at her age, Byleth was sure. Manuela was downright exhausting and Byleth avoided her fellow professor whenever possible. Unfortunately, she had to talk to her when it came to Mercedes’ faith magic tutoring.

“I hate to interrupt,” said Hanneman, standing beside Claude. “I am afraid Seteth has called for a quick faculty meeting before the exercise.”

The students dispersed to their own classes, Dimitri leaving with a respectful bow. Byleth joined her colleagues as they went to meet with Lady Rhea and Seteth. The Archbishop seemed to rely on her advisor to be her mouthpiece while her bright green eyes bored into Byleth. The professor kept her eyes on Seteth despite the discomfit of that stare.

“As this is a practice, we want to limit any injuries Professor Casagranda needs to treat. As such; wooden training weapons, blunt wooden arrows and mages are to aim their spells at the feet of fellow students. A disarmed student has the chance to surrender and if they do so, will be marked as dead. Two hits to the limbs, one to the body will count as a death. Any hit to the head will have the attacker disqualified from the field. Any spell cast within one foot of a student will count as a death. Any questions?” The assembled professors shook their head. The rules were crystal clear.

“Ensure your students are informed of the rules and take your assigned positions. Byleth went and collected Dimitri, Annette, Ashe and Ingrid from where all the students were gathered to watch the exercise. She explained the rules of engagement as they took up position in the south-east corner of the field. Herself, Ingrid and Dimitri took up their frontline positions with Ashe and Annette at their back.

Ingrid and Dimitri held their wooden training lances at the read, and wooden swords at their belts. Byleth carried only her sword. She could always go hand-to-hand if someone managed to get the sword free of her grip. Ashe carried two quivers of blunted arrows and a wooden axe at his back, while Annette was armed with just her axe at her back and her weakest spell on her fingers. They were ready.

The Black Eagles were positioned north of them in a tight formation around Manuela. He had chosen Edelgard, Ferdinand Von Aegir, Hubert Von Vestra, and Dorothea Arnault. Dorothea was in a forward position; a strange choice for a mage as far as Byleth was concerned. Was it just coincidence she was the only commoner in her House?

The Golden Deer were spread thin north-west of the Lions. Hanneman had selected Claude and Hilda Goneril who were nowhere to be seen. Byleth was sure they would be setting up an ambush, like her own father’s strategy at the village. Claude had evidently been paying attention then. She could see Lorenz Gloucester with Ignatz Victor at his back in the clearing.

“Our victory depends on your leadership,” said Dimitri, attempting to be encouraging. Byleth nodded and silently signalled her students to move north into the trees. The mages in the Black Eagle House wouldn’t be able to see them in order to aim their spells while Ashe and Annette could attack from range at will.

Whatever the Golden Deer strategy had been to lure them into Claude’s trapped it appeared Lorenz had no intention of following orders. Lorenz rushed them and Ingrid was quick to deflect his attack, faster with a lance than the purple haired noble. She was quick to score a hit to the boy’s chest and a whistle from Seteth announced his ‘death’. Ingrid smiled satisfied even as Ignatz’s arrow hit her arm.

“Focus, Galatea,” ordered Byleth, signalling Annette to dispatch the young archer. Dimitri and Byleth rushed Dorothea as she appeared in the tree line. The two had the pretty mage pinned between their weapons and she held up her hands.

“I yield,” called Dorothea, as Seteth blew a whistle to announce Ignatz’s ‘death’ as Annette held her axe to his throat with giddy grin. Byleth had her students move in formation to engage the Black Eagles.

Ashe deftly dodged a surprise attack from Hubert, rolling out of range and firing two quick arrows as he moved. Both arrows connected with the dark haired noble, one to the chest and another to leg, causing another whistle from Seteth. Byleth felt herself starting to smile. Her Blue Lions were winning.

Dimitri moved to engage Edelgard. He blocked her axe swing with the haft of his lance, grinning as he pushed her back. She was faster than he, but Dimitri had overwhelming strength that would be near impossible for any opponent to face head on. Edelgard spun, swinging her axe at his legs and barely grazed his thigh as he skipped to the side, just in time for Ingrid to engage her. Between the two of them they had Edelgard outnumbered and both got a hit to her limbs, knocking her out of the battle.

Ferdinand moved to Annette, dodging Ashe’s arrows. Annette panicked at his speed and dropped her axe. She almost surrendered, but Ashe ran toward the pair with his own axe to block Ferdinand.

“Magic, Annette,” Byleth called and the ginger looked annoyed at herself for forgetting her greatest weapon. She let loose a weak lightning spell at Ferdinand’s feet and Seteth whistled his ‘death’. Ashe was grinning and hi-fived the little mage boisterously.

The soft hiss of an arrow was all the indication Byleth had that Claude had her in range and she dodged instinctively, rolling out of the path of the arrow that would have hit her chest. She scanned the tree line to the west, spotting the next arrow just in time.

“Archer in the trees!” shouted Byleth. “Dimitri, Annette take him down. Watch out for Hilda!”

“Ingrid, Ashe; get Manuela off the field!” Byleth ordered her other two north. She decided to go with Dimitri and Annette; two opponents, possibly three if Hanneman was with them, was the harder challenge than the scholar.

Byleth broke the tree line, now under cover from Claude’s relentless assault. She heard movement behind her and turned just in time to deflect an axe blow and the green-eyed archer grinned at her. “I thought schemes were meant to be my forte, Teach.”

Byleth just watched the young man cautiously, hearing Dimitri engage with another opponent somewhere nearby. She hadn’t heard another whistle yet.

“Jeez, it was a joke. Not so much as a smile,” lamented Claude as he levelled his axe at her. She went on the offensive, confident that her skill outmatched his. He looked surprised, stepping back as he barely deflected her lightning fast blows. “Damn, Teach. You are – shit.”

Byleth smiled just a little as she hit his chest with her wooden sword and heard Seteth blow his whistle twice. Someone else had also ‘died’. How did he see it all from where he stood with the Archbishop?

Byleth stalked to where she had heard Dimitri fighting carefully. She heard another whistle blow but had no idea who had been defeated. That was two unaccounted for. She heard movement to her right and whirled around, ready to engage only to see a training lance at her throat. She sighed in relief at seeing Dimitri and smiled as he hastily pulled his lance back.

“Apologies, Professor. I thought you might be Claude.” Byleth nodded; a fair assumption

“I got Claude.”

“I got Hanneman, but I lost Annette in the trees.” Another whistle blew and the pair decided to go north. As far as they knew Hilda and Manuela could still be on the map. As they broke the tree line, they saw Annette running toward the east, where they knew Manuela to be.

“I got Hilda!” she shouted over her shoulder with a smile. The battle hadn’t been called, which meant one of those whistles belonged to a Blue Lion and Byleth cursed her strategy. Maybe she should have gone with Ingrid and Ashe, but that would have left Dimitri alone with Hanneman and Claude. This was no place to second guess her choice. As they approached, she saw Ingrid level her lance at Manuela on her back.

Damn it, thought Byleth. That meant Ashe had got knocked out at some point. As Manuela conceded her defeat the Knights blew their horns to signal the end of the mock battle. It had been as quick as Byleth expected. Overall, she was very proud of Lion squad. One casualty and two wiped out teams.

“And the winner is the Blue Lion House!” announced Seteth, and her kids whooped with the victory. Well everyone except Dedue and Felix. Dimitri clapped Annette and Ingrid on the shoulders hard enough the ginger mage stumbled a little.

“This victory is the result of everyone’s hard work. Thank you, my friends,” beamed Dimitri as he looked over at Byleth. “And thank you, Professor, for guiding us here.”

“Thank you, Professor!” Byleth was overwhelmed as the students crowded her to congratulate the win. They slapped her on the shoulder, and she felt herself smiling at their jubilation. They all worked hard, not just the squad who won, and they deserved the celebration.

It was a rowdy group of students who returned to the monastery that afternoon. The Blue Lions excited by the first victory of their school year. Byleth stabled Mutt and made her way quietly toward the library. She didn’t want to intrude on their celebrations, but Dimitri seemed to have other ideas, finding her deep in a book about using magic in swordplay.

“Professor! I’ve been looking for you,” called Dimitri, earning a hard glare from the young white-haired girl from Golden Deer…Lysithea, if Byleth remembered correctly. “I was hoping we could all share a meal together. The rest of the House is waiting for you in the classroom. It could serve as both a victory celebration and a post-battle analysis. What do you think?”

“I’m invited?” asked Byleth, raising an eyebrow. Why do these kids want to spend so much time with their teacher?

“Of course!” exclaimed Dimitri, earning a glare and a pointed cough from Lysithea. Byleth muttered an apology to the girl and left the library with the prince. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Because it is you who should be celebrating. You are the ones who worked hard all week to win this,” answered Byleth as the entered the courtyard and she could hear her students celebrating. Sylvain overheard her voice and cheered as she entered the classroom.

“Come now, Professor! It’s about time you got here!” exclaimed the redhead. “We can’t very well celebrate without the key to our victory present.”

“He’s right! He really is!” squeaked Annette, and Byleth realised the kids’ lips were stained with wine. Oh, Seteth would kill her if he found out. “We were only able to win because we had your help, Professor!”

“Yes,” grunted even Felix, albeit sourly. “Compared with that boar who knows nothing save frontal attacks, your tactics were nearly decent.”

“Felix!” admonished Ingrid, slapping the dark-haired boy lightly on the chest. “You really ought to stop picking fights with His Highness.”

“Don’t worry, Ingrid,” said Dimitri, accepting a cup from Dedue who offered another to Byleth. She politely took a sip, but it would not do to get drunk with her students in her first week. “I encourage all to speak freely. I must agree that the professor’s tactics were truly extraordinary. I have much to learn.” With that he led the students in a cheer for Byleth and she felt her face grow warm.

“Oh, today was exhausting,” sighed Mercedes. “I am so hungry I can barely stand.”

“To be honest, so am I,” admitted Ashe with a lopsided grin. “Let’s head to the dining hall. We can grab some sweets for everyone.” With that he and Mercedes took off in the hunt for cakes and Byleth just hoped her kids didn’t get into trouble.

The rest started chatting animatedly about the battle and Byleth sipped at her wine. It was some high-quality stuff and she wondered if maybe she could bribe Manuela with a bottle to get to stop dropping passive aggressive comments about her age.

“Professor.” Dimitri’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He was watching her with concern. “I’m sorry to intrude but…you don’t look too happy for someone who just won.”

“Is that so?” Byleth knew she wasn’t the most expressive person in the world. She never had been, even as a child, but neither was her father unless he was drunk. She just figured it was normally to not be as effusive as most of the Blue Lions appeared to be.

“Well I understand how hard it can be to accept joy sometimes. I’m sorry for prying. I know we only just met, so this may be difficult for you, but I’d love nothing more than to share our happiness with you. Joy can be so fleeting, after all. We’re all in this together, so I’ll hope you will consent.” Byleth felt herself almost smile at his sweet words. He was a lot wiser than most boys his age, and more endearing by half. “I’m sure the rest of the class feels the very same, even Felix.”

“Thank you, Dimitri. I am happy we won, but I’m already on to the next problem. Thank you for reminding me to take the time to bask in this victory.” She was rewarded with a beaming smile as Mercedes and Ashe returned to the classroom, arms full of treats form the kitchen. Byleth enjoyed her night chatting with her students and celebrating their win, even the interrogation about her strategy from Felix and Annette, and the corny pick-up lines Sylvain peppered into the conversation, almost purposefully to get a rise out of Ingrid.

When she went to bed later that night the warmth in her chest had nothing to do with the single cup of wine she had indulged in with her student. For the first time she started to feel at home at the monastery with her Blue Lions.


	4. The Trouble With Teenagers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth slammed a book down on Sylvain’s desk and the boy startled awake; almost falling off his chair in shock. Ingrid had her head down, but Byleth could see the girl’s shoulders shaking with laughter, along with Annette and Mercedes behind them.
> 
> “What do you think, Sylvain?”
> 
> “Ah, I think that you have beautiful eyes,” recovered the redhead quickly and Byleth rolled her so-called beautiful eyes as the rest of the room groaned.
> 
> “My eyes won’t save your cavalry from the incoming heavy lancers, Gautier,” scolded Byleth.

Byleth awoke to a messenger from Lady Rhea, inviting her to the throne room she had first met the Archbishop. She left her cloak and overcoat behind, as the day was finally what she could consider warm. Byleth left her room in just a white linen shirt and her black breeches, revelling in the feel of sunlight on her skin.

She saw Dimitri and Claude on her way to meet with the Archbishop, gushing about her strategy the day before.

“Hey, Teach!” greeted Claude with one of his sly smiles. “I was just regaling His Kingliness with the story of how you very _respectably_ trounced me yesterday.” Dimitri seemed embarrassed by the archer’s words and Byleth raised a brow in question.

“I just wanted to see if there were any tactics I could learn when it comes to engaging a ranged fighter, Professor,” added Dimitri as Claude grinned at him.

“That’s not what you said. You said that you wanted assurances I hadn’t taken any liberties –“

“Shut up, Von Riegan,” snapped Dimitri, turning a brilliant shade of red under his blond hair. He turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Byleth bewildered and Claude far too satisfied for her liking. The archer bowed and made his own departure, making his way to the baths. She didn’t have time to deal with the adolescent drama as she was sure she was late for her meeting with the Archbishop.

“Your work with the students was remarkable,” complimented Lady Rhea. “I can see Jeralt trained you well. I do hope you were able to use the occasion to bond with the students,” she added with a knowing look. If the Archbishop knew about their little celebration, she hadn’t deigned to share that information with Seteth at her side.

“Of course, the mock battle was mere practice,” said Seteth, his face set in stone and eyes distrusting. “The real fight is the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, which will take place during the Wyvern Moon. You are expected to properly train your students so as not to humiliate the academy during the long-held tradition that is the coming battle.”

Byleth set her mouth in a thin line and nodded to his words. She wondered if he treated everyone with this level of disdain, or if she was just lucky.

“As for today,” continued the Archbishop, unperturbed. “I have called you here to tell you of your mission for the month ahead. Your class is to dispose of some bandits causing trouble nearby.”

“My mission?” questioned Byleth. Surely, they couldn’t be serious. Sending mere students into real fights? They were just kids, really.

“Those affiliated with Garreg Mach Monastery have a moral obligation to help those in need, regardless of social standing,” explained Seteth in a clipped tone.

“Students are no exception. Each month, before the new birthed moon departs, each house of students must complete their assigned mission. You shall work to complete the task at hand alongside your students and report back to the Archbishop before the deadline. Understood?” Byleth nodded stiffly as the man continued without acknowledging her assent.

“I will soon provide you with the necessary details for your first mission. If I told you now, I expect you would only forget, and I despise repeating myself.”

“I have high hopes for you,” Lady Rhea added with a serene smile and the pair left for the adjacent office and Byleth took that as her cue to leave.

 _Bandits, they say…_ Sothis’ voice made Byleth jump. She hadn’t heard the girl since she had arrived at the monastery. _Do you recall when we first met? You shall not fall so shamelessly again, correct?_ Byleth chose not to answer the girl as she descended the stairs to the study hall.

 _Have you no words for me?_ demanded the voice. _Do not tell me that you are shocked to hear from me! I am always with you. To hear my voice should not come as a shock._

“Right,” muttered the professor. Gods, people would have some questions if she started talking to a girl living inside her own head.

Seteth sent for Byleth and Prince Dimitri on their first free day of the month. His office was sparsely furnished and not at all welcoming as he sat behind his desk, regarding the professor and student.

“As Professor Eisner has been notified, your mission is to subdue some bandits. Our students have been learning combat through study, but this is a precious opportunity to provide them with practical experience. The knights will support your mission and are prepared to offer their assistance if necessary. In short this is no mock battle. You must be prepared for anything,” Seteth added with a baleful stare impressively levelled at them both at the same time.

“You will receive a message from the knights when it is time to depart. Until then, use your time wisely.” With that Seteth dismissed the pair from his office and Dimitri was humming with pent up energy.

“This will be our first true battle,” said the prince, smiling at his professor. “I’m looking forward to fighting alongside you again, Professor.”

“I am a bit concerned, myself,” responded Byleth.

“During the mock battle, your commands were thoughtful and thorough, as was your strategy. With you on our side, I’m confident we will prevail.” The boy was determined to live up to the Church’s expectations, but Byleth wasn’t convinced all his fellow students were as ready to take someone’s life. “It seems we have some time to spare before our departure. Let’s use the opportunity to prepare as best we can. I will inform the others.”

The prince bowed and left Byleth in the hall and Byleth saw the door to her father’s office open. “By, is that you?”

Byleth entered her father’s office, closing the door quietly behind her. Her father looked up from some reports and looked her over. “You seem well. Are you adjusting to life at the monastery?”

“I think so.” He seemed as surprised as Byleth felt to hear her say it

“When we were mercenaries, I handled everything,” sighed Jeralt. “Outside of Shamas, you didn’t have much contact with other people. I thought being thrown into a swarm of noble brats to teach would be a bit much for you, but I guess I had nothing to worry about.”

“It was, but it has gotten easier. They like sparring, so that definitely has helped,” Jeralt nodded in understanding.

“By the way, I heard about those bandits. Your first assignment is to take them out, right? That sort of work is fairly routine for you now, but don’t forget it’s the first taste of battle for those brats. It’ll be tougher to sleep at night if you let one of your little pupils die, so stay vigilant and lead them well.”

“Any advice, father?”

“Make sure they know how to work together and make sure you are there for them when they take their first life. It’s never easy, as I’m sure you can remember. You took your first too young.” Byleth would never forget that man’s face; leathery skin and gaunt cheeks. He was just a thief, harmless really, if Byleth hadn’t surprised him returning to their rooms in Morfis early from market. She was a child and all she had was her father’s dagger.

“I wish I could offer you more than words, but Lady Rhea won’t allow it. For now, I’ll try to figure out what she wants from you. I don’t mind you settling into your life here, but don’t let your guard down. Ever.” She could see the barely concealed concern in his eyes. He really didn’t trust Lady Rhea or the Church.

“Of course, father,” assented Byleth, taking her leave. She let out a sigh and made her way back to her rooms. Her free day was going to spent trying to figure out how to pair up her students so that they could grow in skill and build trust in one another on the battlefield. They were going to need it if the Church was hellbent on throwing them into real battle.

There was a knock on her door as she stared at her notes regarding Felix. She had decided to have Mercedes and Ashe work together this month, ostensibly so Ashe could train the mage on the bow. They would probably end up baking at some point, Byleth was sure.

Sylvain and Ingrid seemed the perfect match for cavalry training this month, if Sylvain didn’t do something to make Ingrid stop talking to him. With any luck they’d both be ready for the qualification exams in a few months.

Dedue and Annette could work together, both on his magic resistance and her axe work. It helped that she knew they both enjoyed gardening as well.

That just left Felix and Dimitri, and Byleth knew that was going to be a bad match up, if the swordsman’s pointed words were any indication. She needed to figure out an alternative.

As she opened her door Byleth found herself looking up at the amber eyes of the source of her problems; Felix Fraldarius. He seemed surprised as he looked down to see her in just her shirt and breeches. Byleth had kicked off her boots as soon as she had sat down at the desk.

“Apologies for interrupting, but you said you would spar with me this afternoon. You have not shown up.”

“Shit,” swore Byleth, leaving the door open as she grabbed her boots and sat on her bed. “I’m sorry, Fraldarius. I completely lost track of time.”

“Obviously,” grunted the boy, still standing awkwardly in her doorway.

“Oh, come in and sit down. I won’t be more than a moment.” Felix took her invitation to come in, but he didn’t sit on the chair she gestured at. Instead he looked down at the papers strewn across her desk while she laced up her boots.

“Why have you written Dimitri next my name?” Shit, thought Byleth. Of course, of all the papers he could have glanced at it would be that one.

“Just noting potential sparring partners for the month.”

“Not the boar.” Byleth looked up at him from her boots.

“Why do you have such an issue with your future king?” questioned Byleth as she finished tying her laces.

“For years, the boar prince and I were inseparable. I know him better than anyone.”

“So, it stands to reason you are the best suited to help him with his focus. You are one of the most focused people I’ve ever met,” added Byleth as she stood up. She looked up to see surprise on the boy’s face.

“Let me give you some advice. Beneath all that princely polish, he’s an animal, nothing more.” Byleth was taken aback by Felix’s vitriol as he stormed passed her. “He’s strong and skilled, sure. But don’t place your trust in him as a human being. Take care he doesn’t chew you up and spit you out. Me either, for that matter.”

The boy stormed off and Byleth sighed, finished lacing her boots and made after him. He would still be going to the training yard, that much Byleth was sure of.

“Hey there, Professor,” greeted a blue haired boy from the Black Eagle House. Byleth struggled to remember his name. Gaspard, Casper? Shit. “Here to check in on my training?”

Beside him was the large boy from the Golden Deer, Raphael. “Tell me, Professor; when it comes to a one-on-one battle, which is better? Strength or skill?”

“Both,” she answered. “The strongest man is useless if he doesn’t work on technique, and the most technically skilled man is useless if his strikes don’t make a dent on his enemies.” The boy grinned at her answer.

“I guess that means I need to do more training, hey, Professor?” asked the young man with a grin. “Are you holding your open sparring today? Caspar and I would love to get some training in with you.”

“I’m afraid that someone has already claimed my afternoon,” added Byleth, pointed to Felix as he battered a training dummy in the corner.

“I definitely want to see this,” said Caspar, excitedly. “I heard you thoroughly trounced him in class; more than once.” Byleth moved over to Felix, waiting for him to finish up taking out his frustrations on the dummy.

“I thought I heard someone,” grumbled Felix and Byleth held his glare unflinchingly.

“Did you still want to train, Fraldarius?”

“Yes.”

“Then, get yourself ready.”

Byleth picked up a training sword from the rack, testing the balance in her hand. She focused her attention on the dark-haired swordsman and took up her position. His footwork was still impeccable in the ring, and Felix managed to surprise her more than one once resulting in a bruise. At some point during the match Raphael and Caspar had left for lunch, and it was just the two of them, still fighting even as sweat made the wooden sword slip in Byleth’s hand.

Felix was aggressive today, still angry with her decision to pair him with boar prince all month. She met his anger with that calm, expressionless face and vastly superior skill and it only served to frustrate the boy further. She used that frustration like another blade and Felix found himself face down in the hard dirt with his professor sitting on his back, pinning him to the ground. She had his sword arm painfully pulled behind him and he was forced to release the training weapon.

“One day I will beat you and I will surpass you,” spat Felix as he felt her weight ease off him.

“Why are you so focused on becoming stronger, Fraldarius?” asked Byleth as she stepped away, grabbing one of the fresh towels left in the yard by the servants. She wiped the sweat from face, wincing a little. He’d gotten a good hit to her ribs and she might need to check in with Manuela before the end of the day in case he’d cracked one as she suspected.

“Why?” His voice sounded unsure as he joined her, untying his hair as he grabbed a towel of his own. “I never really thought about it. I learnt to use a sword before I learned to write my own name.” Looking at him, she continued to towel off what sweat she could under her shirt. Damn, it was really warming up.

“It’s not that unique, however. That’s just how it is for the noble families in Faerghus; you’re no use if you can’t swing a sword, Crest or no Crest. Grow strong so you may live and live to grow stronger. That’s what I was taught.”

“Ha, you remind me of myself,” sighed Byleth, drying her hair. He watched her towelling off, finding himself starting to feel intrigued by the former mercenary and not just her foreign technique.

“Hey Felix, are you free!” called Sylvain’s voice as he entered the yard. “Let’s go find some girls to chat with!”

“Chat with them by yourself. You’re interrupting my training,” barked back Felix and Byleth felt herself smiling.

“Actually, I’m done for the day. I need to take a bath and cool off, Fraldarius. I will see you in class. Farewell, Sylvain,” Byleth added as she left the boys in the training room, she did not miss Sylvain’s voice as she left.

“You and the Professor? Felix, you sly-“

“You’re insatiable. Don’t you ever stop!”

The bathhouse was full, everyone seemed to be spending their free day in the pools or the sauna. Byleth found herself flanked by Mercedes, Annette and very uncomfortable Ingrid. “They sort of roped me into a spa day.”

“You should join us, Professor,” offered Annette with a smile as she applied some sort of creamy mud to Ingrid’s face. The lancer looked absolutely terrified.

“Yes, it’s always a good idea to treat yourself kindly on your day off,” smiled Mercedes, she looked down and saw the bruise blooming across Byleth’s ribs. “Oh, have you been sparring, Professor?”

“Ah, yes,” answered Byleth.

“Was this Dimitri, again?” questioned Mercedes, sounded very much like a disappointed big sister.

“No. Fraldarius got a good hit on me this afternoon.”

“Felix did that?” growled Ingrid. “Oh, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“It’s nothing, really. I’ve had worst injuries training. I would appreciate it if you could heal it though, Mercedes. It’s going to make lessons a pain all week otherwise.”

“Of course. Hold still,” ordered the healer, her hands warm as the magic flooded through Byleth’s body. Honestly, it was the best feeling ever.

“There, Ingrid. Now just wait a few minutes before washing that off. Your face is going to feel good as new.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good feeling or not, Annie,” protested Ingrid and the ginger mage slapped her arm.

“Oh hush. Not everything has to be about training and knights, Ingrid. Sometimes it’s ok just to do something girly once in a while. At least, where the boys can’t see it to make fun of you for it,” added Annette with a knowing smile.

“Dedue and Ashe would never make fun you,” countered Mercedes.

“Yes, but His Highness, or Felix, or goddess forbid; Sylvain. They would make my life a living hell if they even caught a whisper.” Annette giggled and Byleth found herself happy to spend time with the ladies of her House.

Lectures this week focused on tactics in difficult terrain. At the back of the classroom Annette was scribbling notes furiously, with Mercedes occasionally leaning over to look at them. Ashe was taking notes, too, but he was far calmer and often offered his own answers or criticisms of another student’s answer. Ingrid was quick to advocate for taking the high ground and getting a ranged defence; often clashing with Dimitri’s far more aggressive choices. Occasionally she found an ally in Felix, who seemed to just hate any idea Dimitri came up with on principle. Although Felix did also once offer the idea of clear-cutting a nearby forest to secure a marching route and attacking an enemy base, stealing their horses. Dedue never offered an opinion of his own, or took any notes, but he listened diligently. Which was more than could be said for Sylvain who was on this day, sleeping.

Byleth slammed a book down on Sylvain’s desk and the boy startled awake; almost falling off his chair in shock. Ingrid had her head down, but Byleth could see the girl’s shoulders shaking with laughter, along with Annette and Mercedes behind them.

“What do you think, Sylvain?”

“Ah, I think that you have beautiful eyes,” recovered the redhead quickly and Byleth rolled her so-called beautiful eyes as the rest of the room groaned.

“My eyes won’t save your cavalry from the incoming heavy lancers, Gautier,” scolded Byleth.

“Move Annette’s mages into range,” offered Ashe to the left and Byleth nodded to his answer.

“Thank you, Ashe. Yes, heavily armoured units are weak against black magic. All that steel is going to get you cooked if you’re on the wrong end of a fire spell,” explained Byleth as she moved back to the front. Felix was glaring at Sylvain from the front row and the redhead just shrugged at him.

“Anyway, I think that’s enough for today. You are dismissed for lunch. Don’t forget sparring is this afternoon with your assigned partners.” The class started to pack up their things, but Annette told Mercedes to go on without her.

“Professor, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Annette.”

“Well, I have this book on battle tactics that I borrowed from one of the knights. There's a part I just don't understand. Do you think you could explain it to me?” Byleth nodded, gesturing for the girl to come over. “Great! Thank you so much! It's about this diagram here... I don't get why the knights are grouping up in the forest there. I just can't see the advantage to a formation like that.”

After she had explained the formation to Annette the girl skipped out from her classroom and Byleth decided it was high time to grab some food herself.

“What am I to you?” snapped Ingrid as Byleth entered the hall, seeing Ingrid angry and in Sylvain’s face.

“Ah, my oldest friend, of course?”

“An old friend, is it? Then why must I clean up the casualties left behind by your... Your skirt chasing!” Ingrid’s voice really carried over the hall and people were starting to turn to see what all the commotion was about.

Sylvain let out a nervous chuckle as he realised people were starting to notice his irate friend. “Nobody asked you to do that. Heck, I thought you enjoyed it. Besides, you're real good at it. I'm excited to continue working with you.”

“Do you mean to imply you have no intention of acting a bit more respectably?” shouted Ingrid, the entire dining hall now watching the drama at the Blue Lion’s table.

“Please don't yell like that. Everybody's staring at us,” muttered Sylvain, trying to calm Ingrid down, but she was having none of it, slapping his hand from her arm.

“When you were eight, you came on to my sweet, sweet granny. My granny!”

“Come on. I was eight and she was gorgeo- That was a long time ago,” defended Sylvain, his cheeks starting to turn as scarlet as his hair. Byleth watched the exchange as she spooned stew into her bowl, wondering if she should intervene or let them hash it out.

“Sylvain hit on Ingrid's grandmother? Wow...” whispered Annette to Mercedes, the pair enthralled in the argument.

“People can hear you! Please be quiet,” pleaded Sylvain, but Ingrid had no intention of stopping there.

“When you were ten, we went to that harvest festival and you started making eyes at a scarecrow!”

“A scarecrow?!” Byleth bit her lip to keep from laughing as she saw Ashe’s face.

“Wait a second. That was just an accident...a tragic, tragic accident -“

“When you were fifteen, you sought - relentlessly, might I add - to involve yourself with Lord Gwendal's daughter. Who do you suppose made peace with the furious lord, despite having nothing to do with it? Hm? Me. Always me, always for you. Every time.”

“What a jerk...” That was Hilda, over at a table with Marianne and Dorothea.

“You know what?” snapped Sylvain, standing from his seat, looking down at the blonde. “This conversation is over. I'm done.” With that the young man stormed from the hall. Ingrid sank back down into her chair and placed her head in her hands as Mercedes rubbed her back consolingly. Slowly, conversation returned to the hall.

“Hey, Dedue,” started Annette as Byleth walked over to their table. Dimitri made some room between him and ginger mage with a smile as Byleth joined her students for lunch. “Do you mind if we go to the library to study, instead of sparring today? I’m sure the professor won’t mind, will you, Professor?”

“Of course not. The afternoon is up to you and your partner,” offered Byleth. Dedue just nodded to the girl and she beamed.

“Speaking of, Professor,” said Dimitri. “I am not sure if it would be wise to let Sylvain and Ingrid train together right now. Do you mind if I train with Ingrid, and maybe Felix can train with Sylvain?”

“How do you feel about it, Fraldarius?” asked Byleth, looking over to Felix sitting apart from the rest of the class at the table. The swordsman grunted. “If anyone can get that boy to focus on training, it’s you,” added the professor and the boy rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” Dimitri started to offer Felix his thanks, but Felix ignored him as he continued. “But I won’t go easy on him just because he’s missed some sessions.”

“I’m counting on it.” The boy seemed to accept that and decided to make his way to the training yard to find his opponent.

“Ingrid, would you mind sparring with me this afternoon?” asked Dimitri as the girl pulled her face from her hands.

“That will be fine. Thank you,” muttered Ingrid, joining Dimitri as the pair left for the yard. Soon Mercedes, Annette, Ashe and Dedue all left the table for their respective afternoon activities. Byleth would need to check in on them later, particularly those sparring, but for the most part she had the afternoon to herself.

“Hey, Teach!” She looked up from her food to see Claude joining her with his own meal. “I see you’re as stony-faced as usual. Hmm. I can’t tell if you’re feeling resigned or if you’re just lost in thought. Or maybe you simply don’t care about anything that’s going on. Oh… Sorry. I really didn’t mean to be rude. I just find you fascinating. Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Can you spare some time?”

“What do you want, Claude?”

“Ouch,” smiled the archer, feigning hurt. “Maybe this is news to you, but teachers are supposed to display an active interest in the well-being of their students. Students…like me.” Byleth just looked at him, not even a hint of emotion on her face.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Did your father teach you how to fight?”

“Yes.”

“I figured. Your father used to lead the knights, didn’t he? And I hear he was a legendary mercenary as well. It must have been hard on your mother when you followed in your father’s footsteps and became a mercenary too.” The boy was fishing, Byleth realised. How many others had he tried to ferret out information from like this? By pretending to be friendly and interested? It was a shame, really. He was a likable boy and could probably make some real friends if he stopped treating everyone like an enemy spy.

“I never knew my mother,” sighed Byleth, dipping her bread into her stew.

“I see.” Claude picked at his salad, something covered in peppers from what Byleth could tell. “I suppose you grew up moving from battlefield to battlefield with your father then. You know, for someone who’s right around the same age as me, you certainly have an unusual amount of composure. I guess it’s only natural that you’d be different from young nobles who grew up in the lap of luxury.”

“I’d hardly call you noble,” muttered Byleth, but Claude heard her and laughed.

“Well, even so, I am heir to House Riegan, the leading family of the Alliance.” The boy winked at. “However, I didn’t exactly grow up in luxury like most people of noble blood. Hey, maybe that’s why you and I get along so well.”

“We do?” questioned Byleth. She had barely spoken to the young man, and at most she found him annoying.

“Of course, we do. You can pretend all you like, but I know you enjoy talking to me,” smiled the boy and Byleth rolled her eyes.

“Right. Well, I’m finished my lunch, so I will be going now.” Byleth left him at the table and tried not to sigh too audibly. With a little spare time today she could finally catch up with Shamas and the other mercenaries, but after she checked on her students. She could really do with a drink after dealing with these teenagers.


	5. Dance of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Professor!” greeted Hilda. “We were all going into town for some shopping and lunch. We wanted to see if you would join us. They tell me your training session was a lot of fun, which I cannot for the life of me understand, mind you.”
> 
> “You should join sometime, Hilda, and find out for yourself,” offered Byleth and the pink haired girl looked shock.
> 
> “Me? Oh, no. With these little noodle arms, I don’t think so, Professor,” laughed Hilda.
> 
> “Hilda would love to join next week’s session, Professor, if you will join us for the afternoon,” offered Dorothea with a sly smile.

“Professor!” Dimitri burst into the library, waking Linhardt from his nap and making Lysithea jump so much she spilt tea on herself.

“Honestly, do they teach you nothing in the Kingdom!” shouted the young girl at the prince. “You can’t just go bursting into rooms shouting people’s names! This is a library, by the goddess!” Dimitri looked taken aback by her outburst, and if Byleth was honest, a little scared of the diminutive mage.

“M-My apologies, Lysithea.”

“Just stop doing it! Some of us are interested in more than just training our bodies!”

“Hear, hear,” agreed Linhardt sleepily, drawing a glare from the girl for his troubles.

“And you! Your snoring is rude and-“

“Let’s just leave them to it, Dimitri,” whispered Byleth, making a silent escape from the library and Lysithea’s screeching. “What did you want of me, Dimitri?”

“Oh, I received word from the knights that the thieves have been cornered.”

“Well, let’s go meet the others, then.”

It didn’t take long to round up the rest of the Blue Lions. They were positively humming with excitement to get on the field. Byleth had them saddle their horses and as she mounted Mutt, she felt all the responsibility for these kids’ lives on her shoulders. That weight followed her out of the monastery gates with her students and their battalions of knights, along with her company of mercenaries.

They rode north for most of the day, before Byleth spotted a suitable place to set up camp. She tasked Sylvain, Dedue and Dimitri with the heavy lifting of setting up the Blue Lion camp and sent Ashe and Felix off to hunt. That left her and the Blue Lion girls to get started on the fire and help the boys with tents.

The dinner, courtesy of Ashe and Dedue was downright delicious fare as far as Byleth was concerned and she was sure to thank them both. Dedue even smiled a little at the praise.

“Just as planned,” smiled Ingrid, satisfied that all her work in the tactic’s lectures wouldn’t go to waste as she finished off her rabbit in no time. “They’re in Zanado, the Red Canyon.”

“Let’s work together and do our best to take them down!” cheered Ashe as he cleaned the arrows he had used to hunt.

“It matters not who they are,” grumbled Dedue, inspecting one of his two axes he’d brought for any nicks after chopping the firewood. “They will not harm His Highness.”

“Hmph,” grunted Felix, arms crossed and glaring at the Duscar man. “We’re just fighting common thieves. I don’t expect much of a challenge.” His words got him a playful shove from Sylvain.

“Well, aren’t you a spoilsport. I’m actually quite excited myself. Who knows…there may even be some cute lady thieves.”

“Oh, do shut up, Sylvain,” snapped Ingrid. Things had still been tense between the pair after their argument in the dining hall. They’d had to swap partners for the entire month just to keep the peace in the classroom. Ingrid had even taken Felix’s seat beside Dimitri and the swordsman didn’t look like he had decided if he was happy with the swap or not.

“Well, at any rate, a real battle is a great opportunity for us to see how far we’ve come,” added Annette, excitedly as she collected everyone’s plates. She had volunteered to do the dishes with Mercedes.

“True,” agreed Mercedes with a soft smile. “The mock battle was a success. We’ll be fine so long as we stay the course.”

“I think it is time to turn in. The professor and I can take the first watch,” offered Dimitri. Slowly but surely, they started to go to their tents. Everyone had been split into pairs for sleeping, except the prince, of course. He would be sleeping in his own tent.

Felix didn’t look too pleased to be sharing a tent with Sylvain; “You better not snore.”

“Felix, if I snore, I’m sure I won’t wake from slumber,” retorted Sylvain good-naturedly.

“Don’t stay up too late talking,” warned Byleth as Mercedes and Annette crawled into their tent giggling. Ingrid bid the professor goodnight before crawling into the tent they would be sharing.

“Goodnight, guys,” beamed Ashe as he crawled into his own tent after Dedue.

“So much excitement…” mused Byleth.

“Perhaps we are a bit overly excited,” obliged Dimitri with a smile as he placed another log on the fire, watching the professor pull her black cloak tighter around herself. “But we have the knights’ support. All should be well. In fact, your father may be out there. Perhaps we shall have the good fortune of seeing you fight side by side.”

“This isn’t a game,” chastised Byleth. These kids were going to get themselves killed.

“Of course, Professor. I apologise for letting my childish whims get the better of me,” he said, cheeks going pink in the firelight. “In truth, I’m a bit jealous. My parents are no longer around.”

“What happened?” Byleth’s voice was softer this time, watching her student with concern. Was this the darkness she saw behind his blue eyes when he fought?

“They…they died. Both of them. I’m all that remains of them now. In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship.”

“Have you no other family?”

“I'm afraid not,” sighed Dimitri, not meeting her eyes as he watched the flames flicker over the fresh log. “My birth mother fell ill and died shortly after I was born. And my uncle... suffice to say we don't get along. I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers. But they were all taken away from me four years ago. Ah, but there were those outside the castle walls I was close to. Such as Rodrigue!” he added with a fond smile.

“Rodrigue?”

“Pardon my rudeness. I meant Lord Rodrigue. He is my father's oldest friend, and the father of Felix,” explained Dimitri. Byleth cocked her head to the side in thought. Did Felix have a problem with Dimitri because of the prince’s relationship with the swordsman’s father? “On the occasions he would visit the capital, he'd take me out hunting or on long horse rides. While Dedue is like a brother to me, Rodrigue is more like a second father. It might sound ridiculous, but...he's the kind of man I hope to become one day. Someone who helps others... Someone who can reach out and save a lost soul. Oh... Please accept my apologies for boring you with my life story.”

“Your life is anything, but boring, Dimitri. Condolences don’t mean much when you never really knew the people. But I am glad you found a family in all of that, and in time, I hope I can prove trustworthy enough to be considered as such,” offered Byleth. She couldn’t imagine losing her father; he was her touchstone, the axis upon which her world spun. To lose that, well, she, too would carry a darkness in her eyes.

 _Phooey_ , piped up Sothis, almost making Byleth jump in surprise. _Oh, stop that! As if I would let you get all dark and brooding. That would be no fun for me, for one!_

 _Not now, Sothis._ Byleth gritted her teeth at the girl’s voice. She sure could pick her times to pipe up.

“Thank you, Professor. I appreciate the offer,” smiled Dimitri. With that the pair finished their watch in comfortable silence, rousing Felix and Ingrid for the next shift before getting some much-needed rest.

The next morning found the Blue Lions and their supporting knights at what was called the Red Canyon. _So, we’re taking children into battle, are we? Don’t do anything stupid_ , cautioned Sothis and Byleth steeled herself. This was going to be a hard day, but she was determined to make sure the Lions got out of this alive.

They dismounted; the excitement having burned away into nerves on the ride north. They looked ridiculous in their Academy uniforms with iron weapons, but Byleth didn’t let that show on her face.

“Into position, class.” She had given Ingrid, Dimitri, Sylvain, and Annette battalions of knights to command as they had performed the best on the tactics test last week. Annette was joined by Mercedes, bow at the ready along with the assigned battalion of archers. Sylvain and Ingrid were both given battalions of mixed melee knights. Felix joined Sylvain, while Ashe readied his bow beside Ingrid. Dimitri had command of Jeralt’s mercenaries, along with Dedue his constant shadow. Byleth trusted Shamas to keep the young prince safe.

“There, on the bridge,” warned Annette, ordering her archers into position.

“Dimitri, with me. Let’s keep those bandits occupied!” She unsheathed her sword and ran toward the bandits, feeling Byleth wash away. A hail of arrows and magic greeted their foes before they crashed into them, slicing through their number like a hot knife through butter. The Ashen Demon took over on the battlefield, a ghost on the battlefield who felt nothing as she sliced men’s tethers to this world in arc of blood and mud.

Once they cut through the forces on the bridge, she sent Ingrid and Sylvain to the path along the west with their support. She only caught glimpses of her students as they fought. Dimitri shouting as his lance caved a man’s skull in. Dedue as calm as herself, hacking off the limbs of any man foolish enough to get close enough to himself or Dimitri. Annette, wide eyed as she watched a man run from her, set alight by her own spell. Mercedes vomited by some rocks. Ashe, pale as he loosed arrow after arrow, never missing his target. Ingrid, face splattered with dirt and on her feet now, having lost her horse. Felix by Byleth’s side at one point, skewering a man Byleth hadn’t noticed. Sylvain getting pulled off his horse by a man, only to be rescued by Ingrid’s lance.

Then, Byleth saw him. The leader of these bandits, the same man she had saved Edelgard from. She made a beeline for him, cutting through his forces without mercy with Dimitri and Felix on either side of her. The man recognised her all too late as her sword came down and his head rolled from his shoulders. The fighting didn’t end there, but the fight went out of the bandits. Many threw their weapons on the ground in surrender, but the knights were merciless. Armed or not, they slaughtered everyone even as Byleth’s students and Jeralt’s mercenaries looked on in horror. Byleth felt rage coil deep in her gut as she grabbed one of the knights.

“They’ve surrendered! What are you doing?”

“Lady Rhea commanded none were to live,” spat the man pushing her off him as he killed one of the kneeling bandits in one fell swoop. Disgusted she stormed off, refusing to partake in this barbarity. Shamas clapped her on the shoulder in solidarity and glanced at his men, ordering them back. They didn’t kill unarmed men.

Her students looked anywhere between furious and sickened as they followed their professor.

“I hope the goddess blesses them to rest in peace,” whispered Mercedes, tears streaming down her face as she looked away from the execution.

“It doesn’t really feel like much of a victory,” added Annette, deflated and pale. Ashe was looking at the bodies they passed.

“If I’d hesitated…these could have been me.”

“We had to fight, Ashe,” comforted Sylvain, looking about as furious as Byleth felt. “You can’t hate yourself for protecting your friends.”

“I know they were thieves, bandits, but…” Dimitri shook his head. “They were still men.”

“It’s not honourable,” protested Ingrid.

“I couldn’t give a lick about honour, but it isn’t right,” agreed Felix. “These men are no threat.”

“You will need to take that up with the Archbishop,” spat Byleth as she mounted Mutt, her face not brokering any further conversation. “It’s not my orders they’re following. Ingrid, double up with Mercedes. Mount up, Blue Lions. We’re not sticking around for this shit.”

With that, Byleth kicked her heels into Mutt and left Zanado. Unbidden a thought came into mind. _I remember this being a peaceful place…_ Sothis sounded as deflated as some of the students.

 _You’ve been there before, Sothis_? Asked Byleth, calming herself with the rhythm of Mutt’s hooves.

 _I must have, and yet, I can’t remember anything more than feelings. If I was somehow there before, I wonder what took place. One day, I will remember that which I have lost…_ with that Sothis’ voice and presence left her and Byleth just felt tired.

“Professor?” Dimitri was riding beside her and she turned to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for leading us. We are all going home today thanks to you. And know, that when I am king, crimes like we saw today will not be allowed in my lands; no matter the hand that commands them.”

“Thank you, Dimitri.”

It was a long and quiet ride back to the monastery. There was no chatter by the campfire, her students much more subdued than they had been on the trip north. Even Sylvain kept his mouth shut as he sat watch with Byleth for the last watch of the night. Upon seeing the monastery, Byleth felt no relief of coming home. She only felt the sting of anger once again rising in her chest at the thought of talking to the Archbishop.

She stabled her horse, giving Mutt a soft scratch behind his ears. He bumped her nose against her hand as if he worried about her and Byleth offered the beast a soft smile. He was a kinder beast than that she had to confront now.

“Oh, Edelgard?” Dimitri’s voice caught Byleth’s attention as the Black Eagles were saddling their own horses nearby. “Does the Black Eagle House have a mission to see to? Remember – on a real battlefield, one can never tell what’s to come,” cautioned the boy, and Edelgard narrowed his eyes at him. “You can never dismiss the possibility of the worst-case scenario. Take care, Edelgard.”

“There’s no need to state the obvious, Dimitri,” scoffed the princess. “But tell me, why the concern? Perhaps you doubt my abilities? If so, your lack of insight is disappointing.”

“That’s not what I meant,” sighed the prince. “If I’ve offended you, I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“Don’t worry about it,” dismissed the princess. “Black Eagles, we must get on the road this instant.” As Dimitri came past Byleth she raised an eyebrow at the prince.

“Why the concern?”

“Perhaps, I will tell you about it. At some other time,” he added as one of Seteth’s messengers found Byleth. She sighed, really having hoped to at least have a bath before having to see that woman, but apparently, the Archbishop never developed the virtue of patience. Instead she dutifully followed the man to the Archbishop’s statue room, or throne room – whatever she called it.

She held her tongue through the woman’s congratulations and her empty prayers for the dead, killed on her order. Sothis forced her to listen when the Archbishop started on the story of Zanado.

“Long ago, the divine Seiros received a revelation from the goddess. A gift, to help guide the lost. The goddess is always watching over Fόdlan from her kingdom above. However, in ancient times it is said she alighted upon the world in that very canyon. She graced this world with her presence and offered salvation to the people here. She is the mother of all, the arbiter of every soul. I pray that during your time here, you come to devote yourself to the teaching of Seiros,” added Lady Rhea with a serene smile that Byleth wanted to slap off her face.

_A goddess…I have no memory of her. This is very frustrating. It is as if I know and do not know! Perhaps Zanado was my home back when the goddess walked the land. If so, what does that make me now? A ghost?_

_That cannot be. I am most certainly alive. By why am I here with you? Is it somehow connected?_

“Lady Rhea,” interrupted Seteth, entering at a fast pace. “I apologise for interrupting, but I had some questions about these reports concerning the bandits.”

“As you wish, Seteth. Byleth, we shall continue our discussion when next we meet,” dismissed the Archbishop and Byleth couldn’t be happier for Seteth’s presence if she tried. It was taken every ounce of self-control she possessed to not scream at the woman.

“By!” She looked up to see her father, his face set with worry. “Shamas told me what happened. Are you ok?”

“I’m better than those bandits are.” His eyes were furious.

“There will be consequences, Byleth. These men are under my command, and I do not condone the slaughter of unarmed prisoners.”

“I know, father. I am tired and I need some rest. It has been a long few days,” she sighed, feeling the exhaustion in her bones.

“Of course. I promise I will try and catch up with you soon. I know you still have questions.” Oh, she had questions. More by the day.

The rest of the week passed without incident and Byleth buried herself in her work and her students studied for their initial certification exams. By the end of the week Sylvain, Dimitri and Ingrid passed their soldier exams with Seteth and Jeralt; Ashe and Dedue, their fighter exams with Alois and a dark haired knight named Shamir; Annette and Mercedes, their monk certifications with Manuela and Hanneman; and Felix excelled in his Myrmidon exam with Byleth and a blonde knight who introduced herself as Catherine.

She had been happy to see the skill of the swordsmen from the other Houses; Petra and, surprisingly, Lysithea, who had taken both the Myrmidon and Monk exams that week. Both girls had asked Byleth for additional training, and she decided to put up a simple poster for open sparring on the mornings of her free day. She would change melee focus each week but decided to keep the first session for swordplay if any other students were interested.

When she walked into the training yard that morning, she was surprised by how many students had shown up for extra training. Her entire House was there, even Mercedes. They were joined by Edelgard, Dorothea, Ferdinand and Petra from the Black Eagles; and Claude, Ignatz, Lysithea and a quiet girl with blue hair – _Marianne,_ helped Sothis - from the Golden Deer. She hadn’t exactly prepared for so many students and had to think quick to come up with a different strategy for training so many students. She could hardly train them all herself.

“Fraldarius, Ordelia, MacNeary,” called Byleth as she removed her cloak and overcoat. For training and sparring she wore a simple black linen shirt over linen breeches. It was better to show the movements she would have them practicing. The three myrmidon certified students came to her dutifully as Byleth tied back her hair.

“So, this was a lot more students than I planned for, so I’m deputising you three as teaching assistants. You three will spar with me and then in turn you will help instruct a handful of your fellows in their own technique. Does this sound like a fair deal?” The girls nodded and Felix crossed his arms, grunted in what Byleth assumed was assent. He was glaring at her.

“Excellent. MacNeary, you’re up first. I’m interested in showing your Brigid style to the students.” The tattooed girl smiled and bowed her thanks before she went to collect her training sword. Petra’s training sword was thinner and curved compared Byleth’s bastard sword. It worked with her rather beautifully styled and fast style of swordplay. No one had better footwork in the exams, not even Fraldarius.

“Ok, students. Pay close attention because I know how fast Petra moves and you might miss her forms if you’re not paying attention,” called Byleth, settling into a defensive stance. It would be her job to slow the Brigid princess down, more to show her students these foreign forms than to win the match.

Byleth found sparring with Petra pleasant. The girl was like a rain dancer of Morfis, and it was a pleasure to watch her move even as Byleth defended herself from lightning fast strikes. The violet haired girl was not nearly as conventional a fighter as her peers. She used her hands and her feet as much as her sword, forcing Byleth to mix up the technique that she had fallen into when sparring with the Blue Lions. The match ended once Byleth disarmed Petra, holding both wooden swords to the girl’s throat and her opponent grinned.

“You’re a fast fighter, Petra. You have better footwork than anyone I’ve seen in Fόdlan, but your strikes are too soft. You need to throw your whole weight behind the blade to have enough strength to make a dent on any man wearing armour.”

“I am thanking you for this fight,” smiled the girl. “I have many learning to do.” Byleth wished the girl was in her class. She was a far more pleasant student than Felix, who now entered the ring for his own match.

As usual, Felix was aggressive and impatient, but he surprised her with a lunge that looked more to be along the lines of a lancer’s form. He had clearly learned something from his month sparring with Sylvain, even if he was loath to admit to it providing him any benefit. Byleth switch her style to something more fluid to account for the stronger swings and lunges and felt a touch of pride he was switching up his rigid program.

The change suited his cat like reflexes and surprising strength, but Byleth maintained the upper hand by virtue of being lighter on her feet than the northerner. As had become usual in their sparring sessions, the match didn’t end until Byleth had him in the dirt and pinned to the ground. His amber eyes glared up at her as he spat, “I yield,” through gritted teeth.

“It’s good to see you incorporating other schools into your repertoire, Fraldarius. The lancer forms suit you, but you need more practice to be able to use them as effectively as Dimitri, Sylvain or Ingrid.” Felix huffed, blowing strands of indigo hair that had fallen from his ponytail. “And don’t be afraid to use the rest of your body as weapon.”

“Ordelia, you’re up next.” Lysithea was tiny, easily the youngest student at the Academy. Byleth had known the girl to be an exceptionally talented mage, but her commitment to swordplay had come as a surprise when Hanneman handed her the exam request.

Lysithea held the smallest sword of the three, and her blows were the lightest, but Byleth could see she had developed the skill not to kill her opponent with a sword, but to push them back enough to let loose her far superior magic. Lysithea relied on her small size and stayed light on her feet but hadn’t spent a lifetime of practice like Felix or Petra and Byleth disarmed the girl easily.

“If I was allowing magic in this ring, I’d already be dead four times over,” congratulated Byleth. “You’ve clearly developed a style that gives you room to cast and I applaud you for the forethought, Lysithea. Every mage should learn some melee technique. Your enemies won’t stand around waiting for you to cast them into the next life.” The girl’s cheeks went pink at the praise.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Ok, now the rest of you will be divvied up between the certified myrmidons I just sparred with and who, very gracefully, displayed their skills for you. Lysithea; I want you take Mercedes, Ignatz and Marianne. You three are all beginners and primarily ranged fighters, so I think Lysithea’s technique will benefit you the most.” The three happily moved over to the young girl and began asking questions. She appeared pleased to be given the responsibility of teaching her fellow students and Byleth made a mental note to let Manuela know the girl craved responsibility.

“Petra; I want you to take Claude, Ingrid, Ashe and Dorothea. You three are some of the fastest fighters in your classes, and I know Dorothea can dance, so the Brigid style would be perfect for you. Most of you are already so-called ‘unclean’ fighters, or working to lose the rigidity of past training, so I hope you will throw yourself into learning this particular style.” The four gathered their training weapons as Petra immediately started to demonstrate some of the basic forms. She spoke better with her body than trying to voice her instructions.

“Felix; you’ll take Ferdinand, Sylvain and Dimitri – easily the three most aggressive fighters in the room and all lancers that could do with a bit more speed and footwork.” Her student glowered at her but didn’t provide a comment as the three young men joined him and he started barking orders at them. She could only hope he didn’t use the opportunity to pick more fights with Dimitri.

“That leaves Edelgard, Dedue and Annette with me. You are all axe-wielders and I have plenty of experience teaching swordplay to axemen. Mostly pirates, but the principle is the same.” Byleth wasted no more time and got straight to training. Teaching axe fighters was easy as far as Byleth was concerned. Often the had the strength already, just none of the finesse required for swordplay. Annette was easily the worst of the three, but so eager to learn something new. Dedue was diligent, but just as he was with all fighting, unimaginative. Edelgard had the most technique of the three, and clearly had some tuition in the sword, but not for some time. She was quite rusty, clearly having focused her attention on her axe skills.

As the sun rose higher in the sky and Byleth was absolutely soaked in sweat, her clothes cloying at her uncomfortably she dismissed the students for the day. Dedue, surprisingly, came over to her after to thank her.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude. In both the extracurricular activities here at the academy, and on the battlefield,” bowed the dour man. “Your presence has been instrumental in the defence of His Highness. You have my sincerest thanks.”

“Think nothing of it, Dedue.”

“To me, it is not nothing,” rumbled the man with sincerity in his voice. “Please, excuse me.” With that he was gone and Byleth was left blinking in surprise. What a strange man, but his thanks warmed her.

After a bath, Byleth was waylaid by some of the female students; Hilda, Dorothea, Mercedes, Annette and, technically, Marianne. Although she appeared to have been dragged along by Hilda more than anything.

“Professor!” greeted Hilda. “We were all going into town for some shopping and lunch. We wanted to see if you would join us. They tell me your training session was a lot of fun, which I cannot for the life of me understand, mind you.”

“You should join sometime, Hilda, and find out for yourself,” offered Byleth and the pink haired girl looked shock.

“Me? Oh, no. With these little noodle arms, I don’t think so, Professor,” laughed Hilda.

“Hilda would love to join next week’s session, Professor, if you will join us for the afternoon,” offered Dorothea with a sly smile.

“Dorothea!” protested Hilda, but Byleth jumped at the chance. She had heard that Hilda was in fact fantastic with an axe.

“Deal. If Hilda comes to the axe session next week, I will join you into town.”

“Oh, Professor!” lamented Hilda. “That’s not fair!”

“Come on, Hilda,” urged Annette. “Just one teensy weensy little sparring session.”

“I can be there to make sure you don’t get hurt,” added Mercedes with a smile.

“Or more like to make sure the Professor doesn’t get hurt,” snorted Dorothea, pleased with her little scheme to force Hilda to train.

“Fine!” conceded Hilda with a pout. “I’ll do the training.”

“Excellent. Then, I guess, I will join you girls for shopping.”

“Yay!” shouted Annette. She was so easily excited that Byleth almost wanted to smile. Did anything ever bring her little ginger mage down? All in all, the young ladies were pleasant company to spend the afternoon with and Byleth felt that feeling of home again, deep in her stomach.

Byleth had never really had many female friends, growing up in a mercenary band. Those she were fighters like herself with little interest in traditionally feminine things and she was learning a lot that afternoon. Apparently, she was an autumn, according to Dorothea and Annette at the makeup stall. Byleth didn’t know what that meant, but Mercedes and Hilda loudly agreed. They also tried on some truly beautiful dresses that Byleth enjoyed looking at but could see no occasion in her life to require one.

“But, Professor,” gasped Dorothea. “What will you wear for the ball in Ethereal Moon?”

“Ball?”

“Of course,” exclaimed Hilda. “On the last day of the Ethereal Moon, Garreg Mach hosts a wonderful ball celebrating the founding of the Church!”

“I mean, I’m sure I can just wear my regular clothes.” The young ladies assembled gasped at her in shock. “What? It’s not like I’ll be dancing. It is surely more for the students.”

“You can’t wear your regular…oh, I feel feint,” gasped Dorothea as the singer took a seat.

“It’s okay, Professor. We have time to prepare you. I don’t think you are right in assuming you will not be dancing,” added Mercedes with a soft and knowing smile. Byleth turned to the older girl, brow raised.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, please,” snorted Hilda. “All the boys have a crush on you, Professor. It’s clear as day.”

“Ahh, I don’t think that’s…appropriate,” managed Byleth through her embarrassment.

“That just makes you even more alluring. Honestly, for a woman who grew up around men you really know nothing about them,” said Hilda, buying a bag of sweets and passing them to Marianne. “Did you really not notice? Claude, for one, hates practicing with a sword.”

“And Dimitri is always smiling when he speaks to you,” added Mercedes softly.

“Even Felix seeks you out, and he hates everything,” agreed Annette.

“And Ferdinand cannot shut up about your ‘noble spirit’ –“

“Ok, I get it.” Byleth put up her hands in defeat, feeling her ears going red under her hair. She thanked whatever gods were watching her face betrayed nothing.

“So,” continued Annette, trading a conspiratorial smile with the other three. “Will you let us get you ready for the ball when it comes? Please, Professor. Please,” begged the girl and Byleth sighed.

“Fine. But I will not be accepting any dance invitations.” That seemed to be enough for them as they flocked around her like birds; very sweet and embarrassing birds. By the end of the day she had her very first dress, a palette of eye makeup she promised Annette she would try and forgot all about the Archbishop and the Red Canyon.


	6. The Tragedy of Gaspard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please surrender, Lonato!” begged Ashe, desperation in his voice as he threw his axe to the side, holding his hands out.” Whatever your reason for doing this, we can still talk it out!”
> 
> “Rhea is an infidel who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess!” argued the lord. “We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!”
> 
> “Even if all that's true, dragging the townsfolk into it like this isn't right!” Byleth was counting the steps to reach the boy before his still armed father did.
> 
> “Enough. If that is how you feel, prepare yourself! I'm putting an end to this!” The man raised his lance, ready to run Ashe through and Byleth demanded that her legs move faster. Dimitri got there before her, blocking the older man’s lance with his own incredible strength.
> 
> “It is regrettable that we should cross lances like this, Your Highness,” growled Lonato.

Over the month of the Garland Moon, the Blue Lions had thrown themselves into their lectures, sparring and extra training sessions with gusto. This month she had switched up the pairings. Ashe and Dedue worked together and Byleth was pleased to see the younger boy all but dragging Dedue out of his shell at meals. Ingrid and Sylvain appeared to have buried the hatchet and were happy enough to work together. Ingrid had volunteered the pair for stable duties every week. Felix and Annette surprisingly worked well together, and Annette’s infectious joy even brought small unbidden smiles to the swordsman’s face on the rare occasion Byleth noticed it. Dimitri diligently worked with Mercedes, even when she accidently threw a sword at him. He’d luckily enough dodged the flying blade during training.

A few weeks into the month and Shamas came to find her.

“We’re going back to Morfis, lovely.” Byleth just blinked at him in surprise. “Your father’s orders.”

“What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Probably grow into a very respectable woman,” laughed the pirate, wrapping Byleth in a tight hug. “Be sure to write.” With that her oldest friend departed Garreg Mach and Byleth made herself busyt so as not to feel the aching hole in her chest where Shamas lived.

Her weekly open sessions had been a roaring success and Byleth had managed to meet almost every student at the Academy. The second week of axe sparring had included Hilda, Claude, Raphael, Edelgard, Ferdinand, Caspar, and Petra with her entire House, sans Felix. The third week of lance saw Claude, Lorenz, Marianne, Leonie, Hubert, Ferdinand, and even Bernadetta training with her skilled Blue Lion lancers and Ashe. The fourth session in grappling and sparred with Caspar and Raphael, both young men exceptionally strong, and Felix had deigned to join this non sword-oriented training.

After each session, Byleth found herself dragged to tea by Mercedes and Annette, along with Ingrid. The two fighters sat awkward and quiet at the table with Hilda, Dorothea and an equally uncomfortable Marianne, while they gossiped and chatted. She didn’t have much to offer the girls, but she enjoyed those afternoons all the same.

She did not enjoy, in the slightest, standing in the Archbishop’s cold statue room again as the month came to an end.

“We have received reports that Lord Lonato has rallied troops against the Holy Church of Seiros,” said Seteth. Byleth remembered Ashe talking about Lord Lonato as a good man, who had taken him and raised him as son. This announcement did not mesh with what she knew of the man from Ashe.

“Why would he do that?” questioned Byleth, gritting her teeth as Rhea answered.

“Lord Lonato is a minor lord of the Kingdom. He has been showing hostility towards the church for some time now,” sighed Rhea in an almost believable performance of remorse.

“A vanguard unit from the Knights of Seiros is already on its way to his stronghold, Castle Gaspard,” added Seteth, tone clipped and professional. “Lord Lonato's army is nothing compared to the knights. It's quite possible the rebellion has already been suppressed.”

“Even so, I would like for your class to travel with the knights' rear guard to deal with the aftermath,” added Rhea and Byleth had to stop herself from refusing. Ashe, for one, didn’t deserve this.

“War zones are unpredictable. We do not expect you will have cause to battle, but be prepared for the worst,” warned Seteth as the heavy doors opened and Catherine walked in. The knight nodded in recognition to Byleth. They had assessed the myrmidon exams together earlier in the month.

“Excuse me. You sent for me, Lady Rhea?” asked Catherine, bowing to the Archbishop deeply.

“I believe you met Catherine during the students’ exams. She will be leading the knights whom you will be accompanying,” smiled Rhea and Byleth steadfastly refused to look at the Archbishop. “She is one of our bravest knights, and that is no small feat. Only an exceptional few have what it takes to join the Knights of Seiros. This mission should prove useful in demonstrating to the students how foolish it would be to ever turn their blades on the church.”

And there lay the real reason for sending her students to fight their friend’s adoptive father. Byleth felt rage coiling in her stomach at the Archbishop’s transparent fear wielding. This was all just a way to keep her vice grip on power and keep Fόdlan’s future leaders in line. She was nothing more than despot with a serene smile.

“Assemble your House, Professor,” dismissed Seteth and Byleth forced herself not to storm from the room. Her students were waiting for her at the stables, aware there was a mission pending for them and they looked at her expectantly. She made a beeline straight for Ashe.

“I am so sorry, Ashe.”

“Professor, what’s wrong?” Byleth took a deep breath. It was going to be like removing an arrow. Faster was better than slow.

“Lord Lonato has launched a rebellion against the Church of Serios. We have been tasked with accompanying the rear-guard to Gaspard.” The boy’s face fell and Byleth held a hand on his shoulder. Dedue also reached over to lend comfit to his sparring partner through touch.

“Please, Professor, there must be some mistake. Lonato would never raise arms against the church. At least, he never said anything to me about it,” stammered the boy, almost pleading her to say it wasn’t the truth.

“Oh, Ashe.” Annette sounded choked up by her own tears as she flung her arms around her friend.

“Perhaps we get to him before the knights,” offered Mercedes, voice soft as she offered the boy a sisterly hug of her own. “Try and talk to him, right, Professor?”

Byleth nodded. “Perhaps the Church is wrong and Lord Lonato is not mustering a force against them. He deserves a fair trial as any other man.”

“I concur with the Professor,” agreed Dimitri. “Lord Lonato is a lord of my kingdom. He has the right to answer these charges in court of his peers.”

“Thank you, everyone.” The students were quiet as they mounted their horses. They kept close to Ashe, Dedue shadowing the boy as he often shadowed Dimitri.

Dimitri rode beside Byleth as they departed the monastery on the western road. His face was stony, as unreadable as Byleth was to anyone not her father.

“Doubtless, there are times when one must take up their blade, even if there's no chance of winning, said Dimitri, quiet enough that his voice didn’t carry to his companions behind them. “But this... It's downright senseless. Lord Lonato knows better. If he had enough allies to back his rebellion, it would be a different matter...”

“Allies?” questioned Byleth, wondering if the prince knew something about this supposed rebellion.

“Ah, my apologies. I was just thinking aloud. This whole situation is a bit too strange for my liking. Even with the necessary preparations in place, there is always a chance that something unexpected will occur. Please be ready for anything, Professor.” Byleth nodded in assent. It was extremely convenient that after the shitshow at Zanado and the students’ clear reaction of disgust at the Church’s barbarism they were now ordered to quell a convenient rebellion mounted in their own land.

Catherine and the knights caught up with Byleth and the Blue Lions as they made camp for the night. Ashe sat away from the knight, picking the grass at his feet as a chilly fog rolled in from the north.

“Despite the circumstances, I have to say; it's a real honour to accompany such a brave and distinguished knight. None other than Catherine, wielder of Thunderbrand,” said Dimitri in attempt at conversation around the tense campfire.

“What are you talking about?” asked Byleth, trying not to snap at the boy. He was just trying to distract the class.

“You might be the only person at the monastery who doesn’t know,” laughed Catherine. “My weapon is called Thunderbrand. It's one of the Hero's Relics. A long, long time ago, the goddess bestowed divine weapons upon ten heroes, which were passed down to their descendants. It's an honour to wield, but I'm afraid there won't be any chance for that tomorrow. Our mission is to help clean up the aftermath, not to fight.”

“Why would Lonato incite such a reckless rebellion?” piped up Ashe, his eyes red rimmed with tears shed on the road as he glared over the campfire at Catherine.

“You should know more about that than any of us, Ashe,” answered Catherine, and Byleth felt herself joining Felix and Dedue in glaring at the woman.

“Well, I don't!” shouted Ashe, his voice cracking with emotion. “Lonato never mentioned anything of the like to me.”

“He probably didn't want you getting caught up in his own personal vendetta,” consoled Dimitri. Ashe stood up without another word and disappeared in the tent he shared with Dedue.

“Vendetta?” questioned Byleth as Dedue also left for the tent.

“How much do you know about the Tragedy of Duscur, Professor?” asked Catherine. Byleth didn’t change her gaze from Dimitri as the knight addressed her.

“Not much.”

“It's when the king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was...was murdered by the people of Duscur. It happened about four years ago...” The knight’s voice trailed off as she glanced over at the prince who had stiffened.

“It’s OK, Catherine,” gritted Dimitri. “Please, go on.”

“Right. Well, Lord Lonato's son, Christophe, was accused of being involved in that whole awful affair. He was executed by the church,” explained Catherine.

“The Church often executes prisoners?” Byleth was grinding her own teeth. The longer she spent in Fόdlan the more she realised this land was more barbaric than even the necromancers in Morfis. What an accomplished feat.

“Speaking from the Church's perspective, we simply passed judgement according to our doctrine in place of the Kingdom, which was in complete chaos,” explained Catherine. As far as Byleth was concerned it was a flimsy excuse at best. They could have just held the lord’s son prisoner until a regent was appointed.

“Whatever the truth behind that incident may be, Lord Lonato has harboured resentment to the church ever since,” finished Catherine, rolling her shoulders as she rose from her seat. “Well, to be more specific, his grudge isn't only against the church. It's also against the one who turned Christophe over to them...”

“Report!” shouted one of the knights’ scouts as he ran into the Blue Lion, drawing the attention of everyone present. Dedue popped his head out of the tent at the commotion.

“The enemy is approaching! They can't be avoided. Their numbers are far greatly than we predicted. They used the fog to slip past the knights' perimeter!”

“It looks like our mission just changed, Professor. Everyone; prepare for battle!” ordered Catherine as she collected her famed sword.

“Ashe, the fight has found us.” Byleth heard Dedue rouse the boy and he emerged from the tent, fce rubbed dry, eyes still red.

“You have five minutes to get your armour on, Blue Lions.” Byleth entered her tent with Ingrid. She helped the lancer buckle on her breast plate. Byleth’s own padded armour and leathers didn’t require another person to help dress her for combat and she waited with Felix and the mages as the soldiers and fighters buckled their armour into place.

They could hear shouting in the fog already as Dimitri joined Byleth with the rest of the class. “It seems the knight are already battling.”

“This fog feels like magic,” offered Annette, gripping her axe tightly as her eyes darted around the foggy forest.

“Ok, we need to find the mage responsible,” ordered Byleth. “Annette, can you sense the direction of the casting?” The young mage nodded.

“Ok, Dimitri, Dedue, flank Annette. The rest of you, fall in. Felix and I will bring up the rear-guard.” Byleth exchanged a quick glance with the other swordsman and he nodded tightly.

It was a slow and tense march through the forest. They could hear the knights fighting somewhere out of sight. Occasionally a militia man ran at them out of the fog and the students had to rely on their ears rather than their eyes.

Ashe was the fastest to react, loosing arrows before anyone else had the chance to hear their attackers. Byleth and Felix stood side by side, almost touching as they deflected attacks on the rear of the group. Both had fast reflexes, dodging and blocking the militia’s poorly made weapons before they even had a chance to register the attacker.

The fog suddenly cleared and Byleth looked behind her to see Dimitri’s lance impaling a mage in dark robes. Annette sent a gust of wind to send the dying man off the lance and into the trees. With the fog gone, the Blue Lions could see they were surrounded and Byleth lost track of time as she slaughtered any who stood before her.

As the battle haze cleared, Byleth saw Catherine ahead of them, sword glowing an ominous red. The knight cut through heavily armoured soldiers with her red sword, turning the company of Gaspard knights into so many body parts. Byleth had never seen a sword cut through plate armour as if it was cake.

“It’s you!” shouted a gravelly voice and Byleth saw a man in heavy plate in the distance. “It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!”

“Lonato!” shouted Ashe, pulling his axe free of a man’s collar bone, his quiver long emptied. He ran toward his father and Byleth ran to catch her student. She could hear Dimitri running somewhere to her right, trying, despite his armour, to head off his companion.

Lord Lonato saw his adoptive son break through the tree line. He didn’t lower his weapon. “Stand down, Ashe. I must destroy these evil-doers by any means necessary!”

“Please surrender, Lonato!” begged Ashe, desperation in his voice as he threw his axe to the side, holding his hands out.” Whatever your reason for doing this, we can still talk it out!”

“Rhea is an infidel who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess!” argued the lord. “We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!”

“Even if all that's true, dragging the townsfolk into it like this isn't right!” Byleth was counting the steps to reach the boy before his still armed father did.

“Enough. If that is how you feel, prepare yourself! I'm putting an end to this!” The man raised his lance, ready to run Ashe through and Byleth demanded that her legs move faster. Dimitri got there before her, blocking the older man’s lance with his own incredible strength.

“It is regrettable that we should cross lances like this, Your Highness,” growled Lonato.

“I did not wish to kill you, but I’m afraid you have left me no choice.” Dimitri’s Crest activated before Byleth’s eyes and the light hurt eyes as she tackled Ashe out of harm’s way.

“No!” shouted the boy as Dimitri lunged his lance with inhuman strength, his lance tearing through the old lord’s chest plate. The haft of the weapon splintered and shattered in Dimitri’s hands as the man fell to his knees, coughing blood. Byleth looked at the prince, briefly afraid by what she saw in his eyes before the beast fled and Dimitri returned.

“That vile woman... Christophe... Forgive me...” spluttered the dying man.

“Lonato!” cried Ashe, crawling toward his dying father, tears running down his blood and dirt streaked face. “Please…”

“I’m sorry…Ashe.” The man died and Ashe crumpled over the body, his body wracked with grief.

“Ashe.” Dimitri reached out for the boy, regret clear in his voice as Byleth stood, sheathing her sword. “I’m so sorr-“

“Don’t touch me!” shouted the boy as he cried. Byleth placed a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, and he turned to her, that mask completely shattered with guilt.

“Let him grieve, Dimitri.” The blond nodded and Byleth forced him to look back her with a gloved hand. “You did what you had to in order to protect your friend. He will forgive you in time.” He didn’t seem to believe her, not yet, as he left. Byleth took a seat on her knees at a respectful distance from the grieving boy and the body of his father. She was surprised that Dedue joined her in her silent vigil.

“The knights took prisoners this time. They have left.” Byleth nodded. If they had slaughtered everyone again, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to control herself when face-to-face with the Archbishop again. As it were, she already had some words for that woman, forcing Ashe to watch his father die.

The class hovered around Ashe protectively as they returned to the monastery. Dimitri kept his distance and found distraction in Felix, of all people, who dragged the prince to the training yard. She and Dedue walked Ashe back to his room. The tall man put the boy to bed as Byleth pulled free his boot. A light knock at the door and Byleth opened it to see Mercedes holding tea.

“I mixed a sleeping draft into some honey chamomile. I thought he could do with a dreamless sleep,” explained the sweet healer and Byleth took the cup with thanks.

“Ashe, drink this,” offered Byleth and the boy obediently sipped at his tea.

“Why... Why did this happen? Lonato was always such a kind man... Everyone in the village was...was so nice to me. And I...I killed them. I killed them all! I had to; I know I had to... I know that! But still... What does that make me?” muttered Ashe and Byleth wanted to be able to tell the boy it was all just a dream; that the world was good place like the stories he so loved. She couldn’t bring herself to lie him, though. All she could do was wrap her arms around the young archer and run her hands over his hair as he gripped to her tunic desperately.

“I can’t answer that, Ashe. I can only offer you my support.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“I will stay with Ashe, Professor,” offered Dedue as he took the cup out of Ashe’s hands, as his eyes started to flutter close. “He will not be alone.”

“Thank you, Dedue.” Byleth left the man as he pulled a blanket over the now sleeping Ashe and took a seat at the boy’s desk as if taking watch.

Byleth decided to check in on Dimitri and made her way to the training yard. “Fight, damn it!” shouted Felix’s voice as Byleth opened the door to see Dimitri with a bruise blooming over his jaw, staring at Felix emotionless in the face of the boy’s frustration.

“Fraldarius,” interrupted Byleth in a quiet voice. “Leave us.” The boy glowered, but thankfully, did not argue. He stormed out of the yard.

“He is worried about you,” observed Byleth as she approached the prince like she would a wounded animal. He looked at her, blue eyes so empty and lost and Byleth felt remorse he had to be the one to carry this guilt. She wrapped her arms around the taller boy, hugging him tightly as he began to cry.

Byleth didn’t know how long they stood like that as Dimitri cried on her shoulder, emptying himself of his grief and guilt all over her shirt. Finally, the boy seemed to collect himself and stepped back.

“I am sorry for my lack of composure, Professor. That…that was my first time killing civilians, one of my own lords…Those I am sworn to protect.”

“This is the reality of war, Dimitri,” said Byleth, voice calm and gentle.

“Are you insane?!” exclaimed Dimitri, enraged by her words and calm tone as he pushed her away from him. “Those weren't knights or soldiers, but fathers and sons! We...we shouldn't have killed them. We should have found another way!” Byleth said nothing letting him unload his anger on her with calm compassion.

“I...I'm sorry,” deflated the angry prince, guilt creeping back into his shoulders. “It's not fair for me to blame you for the circumstance. I know that if we hadn't...done what we did, even more civilian lives would have been lost. At least, my mind understands that. But...my heart... Professor.”

“I understand, Dimitri,” assured Byleth.

“Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray? With...the killing part, I mean.”

“I hadn’t the luxury of questioning it.” She could see him reaching out, trying to hold onto something, even an ideal to lock the darkness back behind the mask.

“I see.”

“And you? This was not your first fight, nor was Zanado,” added Byleth.

“No... I do not carry that burden well.” Dimitri moved to bench, sitting heavily as he looked at the dried blood that still splattered his boots. Byleth quietly sat beside the boy. “I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go. The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well trained, and their morale was low. A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens. That's the sort of battle it was. Easy...right?”

“What caused the rebellion?” asked Byleth. She had been on both sides of such conflicts with her father. Everyone always believed they had the truth, the justice, the right…

“The noble family from that area sought to seize the throne after my father's untimely death. The leader of the rebel army was defeated, and the rebellion quelled. This was at the height of the post–war period,” sighed Dimitri. “I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know. He was a soldier. An enemy. Someone we had cut down without hesitation. In that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us,” finished Dimitri and Byleth took the young man’s hands in her own.

“I have felt the same way, Dimitri.” He looked up at her with that desperate look in his eyes and managed a small, sad smile for her as she squeezed his hands supportively.

“That you feel the same way is more comforting than you could know,” said Dimitri. He looked away for a moment, and when his eyes returned to her, Byleth saw the darkness fading into the blue.

“When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies,” admitted the prince, looking almost ashamed as he looked away from her unwavering gaze. “I could never trust someone who felt nothing about taking life. I am ashamed to admit that is what I thought of you.”

“You are not the first to think so, Dimitri. I hope you know now that while every death does not weigh me down, I have never taken pleasure in it.”

“I do.”

“OK. You need to clean yourself up an get some rest.” He nodded, leaving the training yard. He turned to look at her for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and left without another word.

Byleth let out a deep breath. Her students were a mess after this mission, and she was incredibly angry at Rhea for forcing this upon these children. She didn’t know how she could protect them from the Archbishop’s ruthless barbarism, or even _if_ she could.

 _You have come to truly care for these children, haven’t you?_ Sothis didn’t really expect an answer and Byleth knew the girl had the answer anyway. Of course, she cared for the Blue Lions.

“Sorry to intrude.” Byleth looked up at Catherine, her voice soft. The woman looked remorseful for what Byleth’s students were going through.

“What do you want?” The woman handed her a muddied letter.

“I found this on Lord Lonato. It's a note that mentions a plan to assassinate Lady Rhea. We can't tell who sent it, so the source is suspect, but the content is too disturbing to ignore. We must report this to Lady Rhea right away. I hope that it's nothing.”

“Fine.” Byleth stood and walked past the warrior.

“Professor?” Byleth looked back at the woman who had the decency to lower her eyes from the anger in Byleth’s own. “I never wanted this, any of it. Christophe and I were friends. We were in the Blue Lion House together at the academy. I thought of his father as something of an uncle.”

“If you were friends, why did you hand him over to be executed?”

“Because my friend had got himself in a foolish plot,” answered Catherine, her face drawn in an old grief. “I had a duty to report it. That didn’t mean I didn’t mourn the friend I lost, or that I don’t mourn his father now.”

Byleth sighed. “Fair enough. Seteth will be waiting for our report.”

The statue room crackled with the tension Byleth felt inside her body. Once again, the woman congratulated Byleth and the Blue Lion’s on their supposed victory.

“My students do not feel victorious,” bit back Byleth, letting her anger show for a moment, The woman looked briefly taken aback and Byleth felt satisfaction at the reaction.

“I heard some of the students were...hesitant about fighting militia,” conceded the Archbishop, trying for once to sound like a person who cared. “However, we must punish any sinner who may inflict harm upon believers, even if those sinners are civilians. I pray the students learned a valuable lesson about the fate that awaits all who are foolish enough to point their blades towards the heavens.”

“Our real concern is what Catherine reported,” interrupted Seteth, curtly. He glanced at the Archbishop sternly for a moment before he continued; “The secret message that was in Lord Lonato's possession. It contained a deplorable plot to target the Archbishop on the day of the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth. The plan seems unrealistic at best, but a threat is a threat. We must maintain constant vigilance. To that end, I would like for you and your students to help with security on the day of the ritual.”

“Won't that endanger the students?” sighed Byleth. She doubted that Ashe, at least, had any interest in protecting the woman who had ordered the death of his adoptive father and brother.

“Even if they encounter an enemy whom they cannot best, they should be fine so long as they have you on their side,” answered Rhea, as if these students’ lives were as inconsequential as dust. Byleth privately hoped someone did assassinate the woman and her kids weren’t caught up in it.

“The Rite of Rebirth is of paramount importance,” continued Seteth, bravely barrelling on despite his mistress’ words. “It is when the Church of Seiros and its believers unite to pray for the return of the goddess.”

“The Archbishop and I will be confined to the Goddess Tower once the ritual begins. Of course, the knights will be on high alert as well, but there aren't enough of them to keep watch on every corner of the monastery. It is far from ideal to be forced to mobilize students, but the gravity of this situation requires that we all bend to avoid breaking.”

“With any luck, this will all be for naught. Still, be on your guard,” warned Seteth before he dismissed the two warriors. This time, Byleth did storm from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.


	7. Food and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanted to ask your advice, actually.” Manuela laughed as she passed Byleth a glass of wine and she took a sip.
> 
> “And you were smart enough to bribe me with a very decent vintage,” smiled Manuela. “I know I haven’t been the most welcoming to your appointment, and I am sorry about that. It’s not your fault that you are young and beautiful.” Byleth choked on her wine as she looked up at the woman, rolling her eyes.
> 
> “And you don’t even know it,” added Manuela.

Ashe was given a week’s leave of absence for the first week of Blue Sea Moon. Every member of the Blue Lions House, except Dimitri, had been to visit the grieving boy. Annette and Mercedes had baked him his favourite sweets. Sylvain had helped Ingrid collect an armful of Ashe’s favourite flowers and left them strewn across the boy’s desk. Dedue brought him meals from the Dining Hall each night. Even Felix had left the boy a collection of knight’s fables he had read as a child; a gesture so out of character for the swordsman that Byleth found it quite touching.

She told him so as they finished training, stepping in for Felix’s partner for the month who would have been Ashe.

“It was nothing,” grumbled the dark-haired boy, cheeks turning red at her compliment.

“To you, perhaps. But I am sure it meant something to Ashe,” added Byleth and the young man nodded as he helped her put away the training weapons.

“I know something of grieving someone who died foolishly.” His tone was harsher than Byleth expected, even from Felix. “My brother,” he added with a sigh.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t anymore. He died in Duscur, four years ago.” Byleth’s eyes widened as she understood to what he was referring to. “’He died doing his duty.’ That is what my father said when they sent us his armour. I’ve hated that man ever since. Glenn didn’t die because he was doing his duty. He died because someone was stronger than him, or luckier than him.”

“I see.”

“That’s all you have to say?” snapped Felix, turning to glare down at her, a little too close for comfort.

“Would you accept any others?” bit back Byleth, meeting his glare unflinchingly. Felix dropped his gaze first, stepping back and out of her personal space.

“No, I suppose not.” He turned to leave, but Byleth grabbed his wrist to stop him for a moment. He didn’t turn to look at her.

“For what it’s worth; you are right. Duty didn’t kill your brother.” He glanced at her for just a moment over his shoulder before he left the yard. He stalked pass Dimitri as the prince entered the yard. He looked tired, and Byleth wondered if her student had slept at all this week. The emotional fragility of her House right now found Byleth completely out of depth as their professor.

“Sorry, Dimitri. I know I’m running late for the House meeting. I’m almost done,” she called, putting away the last of the training weapons. She turned to see him slumped against a pillar and she put his hand on his shoulder. “Are you doing OK?”

“I will be fine, Professor. It is nothing.”

“You need to rest,” she disagreed as they walked toward the classroom.

“I couldn’t even I wanted to,” growled the boy beside her. “Do not worry yourself, I will still be able to partake in the patrols this month.”

Byleth left it for the moment as they entered the classroom. She would ask Mercedes to slip some sleeping draught into his tea or something. The young man was falling to pieces in front of her eyes.

“So, our task for this moon is to patrol and guard the monastery, to help put a stop to that assassination plot,” started Dimitri, addressing his fellow students from Byleth’s side. “The knights will certainly have their hands full protecting Lady Rhea. Perhaps our enemy is counting on that.”

“I agree with Dimitri on this,” nodded Byleth and the blond prince beside her seemed to let out a breath that she agreed with his assessment.

“Please, elaborate.” Dedue leant forward on his elbows, eyes intense.

“Why would Lord Lonato be carrying around a secret note with an assassination plot written on it?” asked Dimitri, meeting all six pairs of eyes that were on him. “It seems more probable that whoever used him for this pointless rebellion planted this plot to distract the Church from their true aim.”

Annette looked thoughtful. “Maybe they're after the treasure vault. There's also lots of valuable stuff in the library and Professor Hanneman's quarters!”

“True,” agreed Felix, nodding to Annette’s words. “The monastery undoubtedly houses many weapons that rival even the Heroes' Relics.”

Sylvain rose from his seat. “Whatever their aim, we can't allow any harm to come to the ladies of the monastery. I mean, what would I do with my spare time?” Ingrid grabbed him by his shirt and forceful pulled him back into his seat.

“You mean to say we should search the monastery. Try to find what the enemy is truly after,” said Dedue and Dimitri nodded to the Duscur man.

“Yes. And we should be prepared to fight them as well, should it come to that. We need to train even harder this month-”

“Professor?” The room turned at Ashe’s voice; Dimitri frozen in place.

“You should be resting,” fussed Mercedes, but Ashe waved the older girl off.

“I’ve rested enough. I want to help.”

“Of course, Ashe,” nodded Byleth. Perhaps the distraction was what he needed to help himself move on.

“I also wanted to talk to Dimitri. Alone, if possible.” Dimitri looked afraid of the idea, but Byleth was sure the boys both needed some closure.

“Of course. Dismissed, everyone.” Byleth turned to Dimitri, making sure he looked her in the eye. “I will be right outside.” Byleth made sure to pat Ashe on the shoulder as she left the room.

She closed the door behind her, and leant against the wall, arms crossed. A dark-haired woman and a young boy who resembled Claude walked toward her.

“A secret meeting, Professor?” asked the woman and Byleth just stared at the foreign woman. Byleth was sure she’d seen her before. “Oh, we haven't been introduced. I am Shamir. And this young man here is–

“I work for Lady Rhea! And I'm Shamir's apprentice! Oh, the name's Cyril,” added the boy, quickly and Byleth nodded. She remembered now; Shamir had graded Ashe on his bow skills.

“Shamir's apprentice?”

“Yep. Shamir is a Knight of Seiros. She's teaching me about the bow and the sword and all kinds of stuff.” The boy seemed sincere, even if his loyalty to the Archbishop seemed misplaced. “I've gotta protect Lady Rhea, so that's why I've gotta learn all I can from Shamir.”

“Cyril adores Rhea. That aside, if you need anything, ask.” With that the woman left for the training yard with her apprentice. Byleth wasn’t sure she really wanted the help of a child blindly devoted to a ruthless despot, or one of her knights.

The door opened and Ashe walked out of the classroom. He turned to Byleth and smiled sadly. “Thank you, Professor. For everything.” He left, walking toward the Dining Hall and Byleth looked into the classroom to see Dimitri sitting on her desk.

“Are you OK, Dimitri?” He looked up at her with tired blue eyes.

“He thanked me,” whispered the prince and Byleth nodded, noting the guilt in his voice. “He thanked me for protecting him from his father and being the one to finish him. I…I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I don’t have all the answers, Dimitri. I do need you to get some rest, though. If I don’t see you sleeping, I will pin you down myself and have Felix force-feed you Mercedes’ sleeping draught.” The boy chuckled at that.

“Thank you, Professor. I will try.”

“Good. Start now.” He chuckled again and she left him to take her own advice.

“Oh, Professor.” Mercedes saw her walking through the courtyard. “Try not to overtax yourself, all right? I'm concerned for your health. We wouldn't want you to wear yourself out. The goddess won't smite you if you rely on others for help, you know.”

“Even so...”

“Listen here, Professor,” interrupted Mercedes with a forcefulness that took Byleth by surprise. “You might not like what I'm about to say. To be perfectly honest, I had my doubts when I first met you.”

“That's surprising. Why's that?” asked Byleth as the older girl walked with her toward to dormitories.

“I don't want me to think less of me for saying this, but here we are.”

“At first, I thought you seemed too young to be a professor,” admitted Mercedes. “It is unusual, you have to admit. Yet, you seemed very composed and mature, despite your age. You're strong-willed, encouraging, and you go to great lengths to ensure that everyone is cared for. But it almost feels like you're trying too hard to be a perfect role model for your students. “

“It comes with the territory, Mercie.” Mercedes smiled at the nickname.

“If that's how you feel, I can't disagree. But I think it's necessary to give yourself a break every now and again. The mind has a tendency to make mistakes when you've exhausted yourself. In my case, I still seem to make mistakes even when I'm wide awake,” added Mercedes with a giggle.

“Mistakes?”

“Oh, you know. I'm always mixing up the dates for drills or misplacing things. Just the other day, I forgot to put on my uniform and headed out to practice wearing only my -- Oh, um. Well, you can imagine how embarrassed I was. My mind can be so scattered sometimes. Anyway... where was I? Ah, that's right. What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't push yourself too hard. If you do, you might end up in a pretty bad place.”

“That reminds me! Is there anything I can do to assist you, Professor? If it's all right with you, I'd like to help in any way I can,” offered Mercedes with a soft smile.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Whatever you need, just say the word. Oh, this is your room?” asked Mercedes as Byleth stopped at her door. “They put you in the male commoners’ dormitory?”

“I didn’t know it was that.” Mercedes looked up and counted the windows.

“Oh, no. They’ve housed you right under Sylvain. If he makes too much noise, just let me know and I’ll make sure Ingrid gives him a talking to. I look forward to helping you out,” smiled the girl as she made her way to her own dormitory. Byleth shook her head and went inside her room.

Byleth unclasped the cape from around her neck, hanging it on the hook on her door, over the winter cloak she had arrived with. The weather had well and truly warmed up this month, and she found herself in need of summer clothes. Did everyone have two wardrobes in Fόdlan for these seasons?

Tomorrow was a free day, so perhaps she should take a trip to the village and pick up some lighter, summer clothes. Byleth sighed and kicked off her boots, falling into her bed and welcomed the dark abyss of a dreamless sleep.

The next morning found Byleth in the nearby village, holding parcels of new, lighter clothes to handle the summer. She spotted a stall of wine and remembered the Blue Lions’ celebration after the mock-battle. She had wanted to gift Manuela a nice bottle of wine, and now she realised she also needed her colleague’s help with the emotional state of her House.

She selected and paid for a bottle that seemed nice enough. Byleth didn’t know much about wine, but she hoped that Manuela would appreciate the gesture at least.

“Hey, Professor!” Byleth whirled around to see Sylvain smiling at her from across the square. The tall redhead strode toward her, parting the crowd with ease. “Hiding from Felix’s incessant training by shopping, Professor? A brilliant tactic, if I do say so myself.”

“You just did,” pointed out Byleth and the young man laughed.

“True. What are you – Oh, wine. You looking to seduce someone, Professor?” asked Sylvain, raising a brow as he grinned at her.

“More looking to bribe someone,” corrected Byleth as she left the stall. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I’m just enjoying my free day in the sun. Actually, I was about to grab an early lunch at little place around the corner, if you’re hungry?” Byleth thought about it for a moment. She had skipped breakfast and her stomach rumbled a little at the prospect of food.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite to eat.”

“Really? Excellent,” grinned Sylvain, a smile so wide Byleth started to second guess her agreement. “Don’t look like that, Professor. I promise, it’s not anything salacious. It’s just the best pheasant in town with a tart berry sauce that would make the goddess herself cry.” He looped his arm around her own and Byleth had no escape from the stronger lancer.

Sylvain dragged her down a side street to a small little tavern Byleth probably wouldn’t have noticed on her own. The only noticeable feature from the street was a single purple glass lantern by the door. The barkeep greeted the redhead enthusiastically and cleared the pair a table.

“I take it you come here often?” asked Byleth as she put her parcels down.

“Oh, all the time. I told you, they have the best pheasant, and the ale – thanks, Ivan – is better than the main tavern in the square.” Byleth narrowed her eyes as the barkeeper left two mugs of ale on the table.

“Sylvain.” Her tone was warning, and Sylvain rolled his eyes.

“Relax, Professor. It’s a day off and I’m of age, I promise. Byleth narrowed her eyes, knowing better than to believe the redhead on his word. “I have never lied to you before, why would I start now. I was born 1160, Professor. My twentieth birthday was last month.”

“OK,” conceded Byleth. “Sorry, I missed your birthday.”

“Aww, you can always make it up to me later, right?” asked Sylvain with a teasing smile that only awarded the redhead a glare. “By not reporting my off-campus activities to Seteth, of course.” Byleth snorted, taking a sip of the ale offered to her.

“Hey, how do I know you’re of age, huh?”

“You don’t,” answered Byleth and the man smiled at her, leaning on his elbows.

“Oh, mystery. How old are you, Professor? You don’t look like you’re any older than me.”

“I don’t know. Under twenty is about as much as know. Probably, older than twelve, though,” she added after a thought. Sylvain almost choked.

“Yeah, you’re definitely older than a child, Professor. How come you don’t know your age?” Byleth shrugged.

“My father never told me. All I know is that I was born after he left the Church.”

“You know you get more intriguing by the minute, Professor,” commented Sylvain as their food was brought out. Byleth dug into her meal and hummed in satisfaction. “I told you, Professor. This sauce is downright sinful.”

“I don’t know about sinful, but it’s the best food I’ve had in Fόdlan.” Sylvain beamed at her words.

“YOU!” Byleth was started as a girl stalked over to their table. “How dare you bring some random hussy to OUR spot! Is SHE why you didn’t want to come to dinner with my parents, then? You were cheating on me with some…some, blue-haired harlot?!”

“Excuse me,” stuttered Byleth, looking up at the girl with that emotionless glare.

“You think I'd cheat? On you, baby? Never.” Sylvain shot Byleth an apologetic look as he dragged the girl away from their table. Byleth watched the exchange, both curious and incensed by the girl’s accusations of her.

“Come on, you should know me better than that. You're the only one for me. I swear,” said Sylvain in a tone Byleth didn’t buy at all. So, this is what her students had meant about Sylvain. “Hey, if ya don't believe me, well... Oh, I get it. If I'm not your type, do you want me to introduce you to some other guys who have Crests? They're all nobles, just like me.”

“What?!” spluttered the girl. “That isn't why I'm - You - You're worse than I thought!”

“I just want you to be happy. You know, get what you're after,” he called after as the girl stormed off. Byleth shook her head as the redhead re-joined the table.

“So, Professor, do you enjoy spying on people? You look like you've got something to say. So, say it.”

“You acted like a jerk.”

“Hey, that was between me and her, not you,” retorted Sylvain as he cut into his pheasant. “But you know how it is. Most relationships, they end in heartbreak. Anyway, I don't know why she's so upset about me dating other girls. She didn't care before she found out, why does she care now? I really do hate seeing a girl cry.”

“Dating? This isn’t a date, Sylvain,” stated Byleth, level a baleful glare at her student.

“Of course not. That wouldn’t be…appropriate, I believe is the word you would use,” he responded with a knowing smirk. How had heard about that? One of those girls had talked, and to Sylvain of all people. When she found out she was going to make that girl pay on the training yard.

“Is that a fact?”

“I think I guessed your words pretty well,” smirked Sylvain. “If only I had someone to comfort me. Professor? It's OK if you want to console me... I happen to have some exquisite tea back in my quarters. You could come by, and...we could chat about love.” Byleth rose from her seat, ready to leave. The man grabbed her hand.

“Calm down-it was only a joke! You've really got no sense of humour, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” answered Byleth, dryly.

“Please, stay. At least finish your lunch. I promise I’ll stop.”

“I’ll take it out on you in the training yard if you don’t,” threatened Byleth, sitting back down to eat the pheasant.

“Ugh, and now you sound just like Felix.”

After finishing lunch, Byleth bid Sylvain farewell and made her way back to the monastery. She stopped at her room first to change into the more comfortable clothing. She felt better already in the lighter clothes of blue and white. She grabbed the parcel with Manuela’s wine and made her way to the faculty building.

Rounding the corner, Byleth walked right into Felix as he was coming down the stairs. His reflexes were quick, and his hand shot out and grabbed her as she stumbled back.

“Professor?”

“Sorry, Felix. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Thank you.” The boy was staring at her as she adjusted the package in her arms.

“You look different.”

“Ah, yes. I bought some new clothes this morning.”

“You cancelled training…to go shopping?” questioned Felix, incredulous. Byleth wanted to roll her eyes at him.

“Yes. It’s the middle of summer now and I didn’t bring my whole wardrobe to Fόdlan with me. I hardly think you’d appreciate my fainting during a sparring session,” grated Byleth blandly. The man grunted, still staring at her. “Well, I have to go.”

She side stepped the swordsman and made her way up the stairs. Byleth vaguely remembered where Manuela’s apartments were, and she knocked on the door beside her father’s. No wonder he was always on mission if his neighbour was the relentless songstress.

Byleth heard something crash in the room and cursing from within the room. Suddenly the door opened, and a rather unkempt Manuela stood before her.

“Oh, Professor Eisner. What do you want?”

What were you doing?”

“Excuse me? You had a reason for coming here, I assume. I've put a lot of time and effort into making it possible to talk with you, you know...” muttered the healer, clearly agitated.

“Sorry. I bought a bottle of wine and thought you would like it. I’ll leave you be, now.” Manuela signed heavily.

“No, you've done nothing wrong. Please, come in,” offered the professor. “Thank you, for the gift. Would like to share a drink?”

“I would, thank you, Manuela.” Byleth took a seat, ignoring the dishevelled state of Manuela’s quarters. It wasn’t any of her business how the woman kept her room.

“Let's just say I'm not having a good day. Actually, I didn't have a good night... Never mind! What did you want, anyway?”

“I wanted to ask your advice, actually.” Manuela laughed as she passed Byleth a glass of wine and she took a sip.

“And you were smart enough to bribe me with a very decent vintage,” smiled Manuela. “I know I haven’t been the most welcoming to your appointment, and I am sorry about that. It’s not your fault that you are young and beautiful.” Byleth choked on her wine as she looked up at the woman, rolling her eyes.

“And you don’t even know it,” added Manuela.

“Ah, thank you?” managed Byleth, unsure how to respond to the older woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” dismissed Manuela. “What did you want my advice on? Hopefully, not a man.”

“No.”

“Good, they’re all good for nothing. What can I help you with you?”

“The Blue Lions. After the last mission, they’re….”

“Lost? Grieving? Despairing?” Byleth nodded at Manuela’s words. “Honestly, I think you’re doing a good job, if I’m being honest. What happened….that wouldn’t have been easy on any students, but it was particularly difficult on your students. You know, they really care for you, Eisner. You can see it in the way they dedicate themselves to their work.”

“I’m sure your students feel the same way about you.” Manuela shook her head sadly.

“Not at all. Do you know, I’ve never had any luck getting Dorothea into a training session? Maybe part of it is your age, but mostly it’s just that you have real experience out on the battlefield that neither Hanneman nor I can compete with.” The songstress sighed. “Your Blue Lions will be fine. So long as they know they have your support, they will be alright in time.”

“Thank you, Manuela.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s the least I can do for this truly beautiful wine. Wherever did you find this, anyway?” Byleth spent the afternoon with her colleague, chatting as they polished off the bottle together and the dinner bells sounded. Byleth realised she was happy to have made friends with the songstress, even if she was far too quick to share her personal life in embarrassing details.


	8. The Hole in the Pommel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, come on. Get up, right now. Otherwise, I might not bother to save another foolish child if you’re still going to wallow over a death you prevented.” Byleth sighed, rising from the water and the girl smiled at her.
> 
> “Good. Now don’t start wallowing again or else I’m just going to have to pester you in person more often just to stay sane.”
> 
> “Thank you, Sothis,” acknowledged Byleth. The girl had a point, after all. The girl just smiled at her she faded from view.
> 
> I’m never that far away, Byleth.

The Goddess Rite came quicker than Byleth had expected, and her Blue Lions really put their heads down to figure out the true motive for the apparent assassins. It was Annette who had come to the realisation that the assassins wanted something in the Holy Mausoleum. It was the only place that would be left completely unguarded during the Rite. She had basked in the praise of her classmates for the past week.

Byleth had her students gathered in the classroom as they started to plan for the attack.

“The Goddess's Rite of Rebirth is finally here,” stated Dimitri to the room. “Let's move ahead with our plan.” He seemed to have taken her advice to heart at the start of the month and looked much better rested.

“Professor, are you in as well?” asked Dedue.

“Of course,” reassured Byleth, tightening her sword belt. Ingrid was playing with her plait nervously.

“We've narrowed down our objective...kind of,” said the aspiring knight. “So, let's show everyone that we can carry out our duties better than anyone!”

“We're counting on you, Professor,” added Dimitri. Seteth and his cheerful younger sister found them as they left the classroom.

“You seem a mite too relaxed for my liking,” commented Seteth with a hard glare. “The Goddess's Rite of Rebirth is about to begin. While we are in the Goddess Tower, we are relying on you to secure the locations that are lacking in defence.”

“May I let you in on something, Professor?” chirped the young girl, brightly. “My brother can be a bit...callous. He told me that he was concerned about you and hinted that perhaps you would be better off patrolling a coffin!” Byleth could feel the Lions tense behind her.

“That was said in jest, Flayn. And in confidence. Please just remain by my side and do not cause any more trouble,” interjected Seteth, with a glare for his sister. “As a professor, you would do well to remember that it is your duty to guide your students down the path of righteousness.” With that the Archbishop’s advisor stormed off toward the cathedral. Flayn grinned at the class.

“Please excuse us, everyone. We shall see you again after the ceremony has concluded!”

“It's time,” observed Dedue as he moved to Dimitri’s side.

“All right,” began Dimitri, setting his mouth into a determined line. “Let's stick to the plan and go hide where we can watch over the entrance to the Holy Mausoleum. If anyone suspicious enters, we'll follow them in and take them down. Got it?”

A cheer of assent greeted the prince and Byleth led her class into the cathedral to hide.

Byleth and the students hid in the room with the tarnished Saint statues. She and Dimitri watched the Archbishop’s procession to the Goddess Tower and waited. She didn’t know how long they waited; the adrenaline long burned off when she finally saw movement in the shadows. Masked men slunk through the empty pews and slipped into the Holy Mausoleum and she glanced over at Dimitri to see the boy staring at her.

“Let’s go, Professor.” On her signal the Lions followed her across the cathedral. Sylvain and Dimitri opened the heavy mausoleum doors and the class entered the dark chamber.

“Those Central Church bastards have spotted us... Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket!” shouted a mage as he spotted Byleth and the students. He took off at a run as his guards turned on them. A flash of crimson light blinded Byleth momentarily and when she looked back up there was a menacing knight in black armour watching them from in front of the dais.

“Death Knight! Prove your strength and scatter these fools!” shouted the fleeing mage.

“I don't take commands form the likes of you,” growled the man, his voice deep and inhuman, “or waste my time on weaklings.”

“Professor catch the mage!” shouted Dimitri as he lowered his lance. “We’ll mop up these bastards. We can’t let him open that casket!”

Byleth took off at a run, trusting her students to handle the guards. She heard someone running beside her, but she didn’t look to see who had followed her into the mausoleum. She caught a glimpse of an axe coming at her too late to change her course.

“Professor!” Byleth’s eyes widened as she saw Felix throw himself in front of the axe, and watched in horror as the axe, tore through his chest and the boy fell to the ground.

“Felix!” shouted Byleth, cutting down the fighter who had hurt her student. She dropped down to the swordsman, sword clattering on the stone as she held her shaking hands over the rapidly growing red stain on his uniform. “No, no, no, no. Mercedes!”

“Professor…” grunted the boy weakly.

“No, you are not allowed to die, Fraldarius! Do you hear me. I order you to not die!” Byleth looked up trying to find the healer. “Mercedes!”

 _Oh, for….let me!_ shouted Sothis and Byleth felt everything stop. She blinked and she was back at Dimitri’s side as he ordered her to run. Bewildered for a moment, Byleth saw Felix watching her. Alive. He wasn’t dead yet.

_Sothis, did you –_

_Yes, now don’t let that stupid boy die a second time_.

“Fraldarius, with me. Cover my left!” ordered Byleth. The boy looked surprised, but Byleth ignored him. The axe would be coming from her right and he would be safe on her other side. It wasn’t as if she could convince him to stay with the Lions.

Byleth took off at a run again, hyper aware of Felix’s footsteps behind her. She knew when the axe was coming and blocked it with ease, kicking the man back as Felix plunged his sword into the fighter. The knight just watched her pass him, not lifting the scythe in his hands to stop her or Felix as they passed him. Byleth focused on the mage ahead of her and ran toward him as he finally broke the seal with his magic. He pushed open the casket and pulled free a sword to face her.

Byleth swung upwards and the mage lost his grip, sending the sword flying into the air. She caught it on the descend and narrowed her eyes at the masked man, two swords at the ready. A fire spell formed in his hands and she threw away her steel sword, instinctively moving to block the spell as if it were no more than arrow. The fire hit the blade and it hummed in her hands. Looking at it, Byleth saw the entire thing had begun to glow red like Catherine’s Relic.

She didn’t have time to think about it, as another fireball flew toward her and Byleth confidently blocked the magic. Cornered, the mage pulled for a larger spell and Byleth ran for him, sword at the ready. She hit the magic shield he was conjuring and pushed down with all her strength. She felt it cracking beneath her blade before the magic shattered and her sword sliced right through the man’s torso, from collar bone to hip.

“It seems this was not a total waste,” growled the knight before he disappeared in another crimson flash.

She turned to check on the Blue Lions to see Felix looking at her with awe on his face. A ridiculous expression on the face of the boy she had watched die only moments ago. The class finished off the rest of the guards and Dimitri looked for her. She tore her eyes away from Felix’s to see the prince looking at her with the same dumbfounded look of shock. Finally, she looked down at the humming sword in her hand, still glowing; a hole in its pommel.

“Professor,” muttered Dimitri as he walked toward. “That sword…is it…”

“Is the intruder here?” shouted a voice from the corridor as Catherine ran into the mausoleum, Thunderbrand in hand. She stopped in her tracks as she saw the bodies and Byleth standing there with what looked to be, for all the world, a Holy Relic; glowing in her hands.

“You, fetch Lady Rhea,” barked the knight to one of her fellows. The man took off at a run. Catherine put away her Thunderbrand. “Where did you get that?”

“He did,” pointed Byleth, drawing Catherine’s attention to the man cut in two behind her. “He pulled it from the casket.”

Catherine had no time to answer as Rhea entered the chamber at a run. Byleth blinked. It was the first time she had seen the Archbishop look anything but disgustingly serene. “By the Goddess,” whispered the woman staring at her with a hunger that absolutely terrified Byleth.

“Lady Rhea, I really –“ Whatever admonishments Seteth had for the Archbishop were lost as he took in the sight of Byleth holding the Relic. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Can’t you see, Seteth? The sword is glowing for her,” answered Rhea, her mask of serenity back down. “Children, please, clean yourselves up and get some rest. Professor, I would like to speak with you in the morning.” Byleth nodded stiffly.

“But, Lady Rhea, she can’t –“

“It has chosen her, Seteth.” With that the Archbishop left and Seteth looked back at Byleth for a moment before he too disappeared.

“Professor?” asked Dimitri.

“I’m fine, Dimitri. The Archbishop is right. You all need to clean yourselves up and we all nee rest. Tonight, has been…well…” Her voice trailed off as she looked back down at the Relic in her hands.

_Now what could be the meaning of all this?_

_Maybe the fucking goddess will know_ , griped Byleth as she walked out of the mausoleum after the Blue Lions. Byleth soaked in one of the private baths, not wanting to be disturbed as memories of the battle played in her mind in a constant loop. The way the light had died in Felix's eyes, his breath clawing and rattled.

 _I stopped that so you wouldn’t do this,_ admonished Sothis. Byleth’s eyes opened and she saw the girl sitting on the edge of her bath.

“Sothis?”

“Oh, look. You’re not as dumb as you look,” said the girl in a scathing tone.

“What are doing here and not –“

“In your head? Because right now you are just going over and over and over that boy’s death and, frankly, I find it all quite boring. He’s alive, so what’s there to grieve?”

“How did you do that?” The girl pouted.

“What? You’ve forgotten already that I can reverse time? No wonder you can’t even remember your own age. You’re really quite pathetic, right now. You know that, right?”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, come on. Get up, right now. Otherwise, I might not bother to save another foolish child if you’re still going to wallow over a death you prevented.” Byleth sighed, rising from the water and the girl smiled at her.

“Good. Now don’t start wallowing again or else I’m just going to have to pester you in person more often just to stay sane.”

“Thank you, Sothis,” acknowledged Byleth. The girl had a point, after all. The girl just smiled at her she faded from view.

 _I’m never that far away, Byleth_.

Byleth dressed in fresh night clothes and left the baths. She could hear crashing from the training yard and ran over, sure to find Felix destroying a practice dummy. Instead what greeted her was bedlam. The training weapons were strewn all over the yard, along with dummies torn to pieces. It wasn’t Felix that she saw as the cause of this mess, but Dimitri.

“Dimitri?” He looked up at her, his eyes dark and foreboding. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” growled Dimitri, looking down from her unwavering stare. Byleth walked through the mess he had created and placed a hand on his shoulder, making Dimitri jump.

“Talk to me, Dimitri.” His blue eyes locked on to hers and he let out a heavy sigh.

“The Archbishop killed the visiting priests from the Western Church for orchestrating the attack."

“What?”

“No trial, nothing. She just killed them on her accusation alone. How is that justice?” What was going on? Byleth didn’t have any words to comfort her student.

“It’s not.” Dimitri looked at her, desperate for something she couldn’t give him. “There’s nothing we can do about this, right now, Dimitri. You need to rest, and I will bring this up with the Archbishop in the morning. I promise.”

“Of course.”

“Do you want a hand cleaning all this up?”

“No. I made this mess, and I will clean this up.”

“And then, you will go to bed,” ordered Byleth, sternly. Dimitri chuckled at her insistence.

“Yes, Professor. You have my word.”

Byleth left him to clean up the mess he had made in his anger and walked to the dormitories. Rather than stopping at her own room she made her way to the second floor, where her noble students slept. She knocked on Ingrid’s door, and opened the door as she found it unlocked.

“Ingrid?”

“Oh, Professor,” squeaked the lancer, jumping to her feet in surprise. Byleth glanced at the crumpled paper in her hand.

“What’s that?” asked Byleth, curious.

“Well, um, that is...,” stammered Ingrid uncharacteristically. “I was just tossing out something I have no need of. It's important to keep our spaces clean, after all! You'd do well to remember that too, Professor! A clean space makes for a clean mind...or some such. Getting rid of things you have no need for is the first step to managing one's belongings in an economical way.”

“Ah, Ingrid. You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” apologised the young lancer. “People usually have something to say about my frugality.”

“Not me. Frugality is a way of life when you’re a mercenary,” added Byleth and Ingrid nodded.

“Despite my family's nobility, we've never been particularly wealthy. So, my father raised me to be conservative with my resources, paring down when necessary. He also encouraged me to keep my living spaces immaculate, so the two go hand in hand, I suppose,” smiled Ingrid, shifting uncomfortably.

“He sounds like a good father.” Ingrid didn’t meet her eyes as she nodded.

“Yes. He's...a good person. Even when managing our territory used up most of our family's resources, he still went out of his way to ensure my comfort. Professor, did you come to check on me for any particular reason?”

“Yes. I just want you to tell me if Dimitri does not return to his room.”

“Dimitri?”

“I will tell you later,” dismissed Byleth. “But I made him swear he would try to get some rest. I figured you would be the most honest guard I could appoint to let me know if he breaks his word.” Ingrid smiled at Byleth’s words.

“Dimitri never breaks his word, Professor. But, of course. If His Highness doesn’t make it to bed, not only will I tell you, I’ll make him pay for it in the training yard.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.” Byleth closed the young noble’s door behind and glanced down the hall. She saw Felix watching her and she turned quickly, hurrying down the stairs and as far from those eyes as she could get. He might be alive right now, but Byleth couldn’t look at his face without seeing the life draining from it.

Byleth locked her own door once she was safely in her room and let a shuddering breath. She needed to heed her own words and rest. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be any easier. The Relic sitting on her desk was only make things more complicated.

The next morning, Byleth awoke from her restless sleep still tired and knowing she had to suck it up and get on with her day. Dimitri needed her, Felix needed her – by all the gods in all the lands, all her students needed her. Tiredly, Byleth dressed and eyed the Relic that hummed at her. She couldn’t very well leave it in her room, unattended, and so, with a sigh, Byleth tore some cloth from an old shirt and tied the sword to her belt.

“There you are, Professor.” Byleth turned to see Seteth waiting for her, his green eyes darting to the sword at her hip. “It seems Lady Rhea would like a word with you. Come with me.”

“I cannot thank you enough for defeating those invaders in the Holy Mausoleum, and especially for protecting the Sword of the Creator,” said Rhea with a thankful nod once Byleth stood before the Archbishop in the all too familiar statue room “That sword is one of the Heroes' Relics, and the most precious artefact in the Church's possession. It is also a weapon of terrifying power. For now...I will entrust the sword to you. Please, use it wisely.”

“Lady Rhea wait!” protested Seteth. Byleth blinked at the man, surprised that for once he wasn’t just agreeing with everything his mistress ordered. “Do you truly mean to give the Sword of the Creator to this stranger?! Surely it is not the sort of thing that one hands over so readily, even to someone who has the ability to wield it! If someone like Nemesis were to appear again, all of Fόdlan would be consumed by war!”

“Nemesis?” questioned Byleth, feeling Sothis’ roused interest. It was Seteth who answered her.

“Nemesis, the King of Liberation,” answered the advisor. “He is an ancient king of mankind who was defeated by Seiros over a thousand years ago. When Fόdlan was attacked by wicked gods, it is said that the goddess gifted Nemesis with the Sword of the Creator. Nemesis used that sword to defeat the wicked gods, saving all of Fόdlan. Henceforth he was dubbed the King of Liberation.”

“However, his power began to corrupt him until he, himself, turned to the darkness. Saint Seiros was forced to destroy him.” Seteth turned to the Archbishop. “Lady Rhea, I beg you to reconsider. Given a little more time, we could more accurately assess this stranger's abilities.”

“No.” Rhea watched Byleth again with that hungry look behind her serene mask. “I have faith, Seteth. Faith that our friend here will not be corrupted by wickedness. Since the death of Nemesis, none have been able to wield the Sword of the Creator. Now, after all those long years of being sealed away, it has returned and found a new master.”

“I...understand,” conceded the green haired man. “As you wish, Lady Rhea.” He turned to regard Byleth with a measuring glare. “There you have it, Professor. See that you do not betray the trust the archbishop has seen fit to bestow upon you. You may go.”

“No,” refused Byleth, levelling an emotionless glare at the Archbishop.

“Excuse me.”

“I said no. Why were the priests executed without trial?”

“Professor, you overstep your-“ Rhea held up a hand to silence Seteth and the man visibly struggled to reign in his anger while Byleth continued to stare at the woman she was quickly coming to despise.

“Dishonouring a holy ceremony is worthy of death for a member of the church,” answered Rhea, wearing an almost believable mask of sorrow. “The Western Church and their bishop are well past the hope of redemption. The only peace I can give them for their blasphemy is judgement in the Goddess’ eyes. I pray they find the peace that eluded them in life and that they find redemption.”

“And the policy of the Church is to murder men in the dark with no trial, no public airing of their crimes?”

“It is a grim, but necessary task to ensure that is not a loss of stability, particularly in the Kingdom of Faerghus where the Western Church operates. The sort of uncertainty and chaos that knowledge could lead to would destroy the Kingdom when they still have no king,” explained Rhea, and Byleth believed, at the very least, that the Archbishop believed her own words.

“I will take my leave now.” With a stiff bow, Byleth did not wait to be dismissed and left the Archbishop’s throne room.

 _The Sword of the Creator. The King of Liberation. Each tale is more confusing than the last!_ Pouted Sothis, and Byleth made sure not to react as she saw the girl out the corner of her eye, looking to her as if the girl was walking beside the professor. _And I really can't read that Rhea at all... That sword is clearly precious... So why is she so keen to gift the thing to you?_

“I don’t have any more answers than you, Sothis,” whispered Byleth, making sure no one was watching her talking to herself as she walked down the stairs of the faculty building.

_I feel as though we have become entangled in a mystery. The Sword of the Creator feels distinct from other Relics we have seen. Such as the one that... Oh goodness, what was her name? Ca... Cat..._

“Catherine?” The girl clapped with smile on her face. Byleth tried not to look at her as she entered the student courtyard.

 _Yes! Her! The Sword of the Creator is different from her Thunderbrand in one key way; it bears a hole, where something should have been, but is no more._ The green haired girl huffed, pouting like the child she resembled. _I despise not knowing what is going on! It...it frightens me. I place my trust in you. I must. Whatever comes to pass; please swear to cut a path that is your own._

Byleth could feel the girl staring at her, green eyes boring into her shoulders. Byleth offered Sothis a small nod of assent. She was not about to follow the path that the Archbishop was clearly trying pave ahead of her.

“Professor!” Byleth looked over to see Ingrid, flushed as she ran toward her.

“Ingrid? Has something happened to Dimitri?” asked Byleth, feeling her growing worries for the young man rise to the surface of her litany of worries. The blonde looked confused for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, not Dimitri. It’s Sylvain; his brother has stolen the Gautier Relic. Felix’s father has come to Garreg in the Margrave’s stead to petition the Church to hunt down Miklan.”

“Shit,” whispered Byleth.

“I tried to go after him, but he disappeared. And Felix…” Ingrid sighed shoulders slumped as she shook her head. “Well, he’s Felix.”

“And he hates his father,” finished Byleth, thinking deeply as Ingrid nodded. “Ingrid, I’m trusting you to find Felix. He’s probably avoiding the training yard for once, since his father would expect to see him there. So, try looking in places you wouldn’t normally expect to find him. He…probably will snap at you.”

“Ha! When hasn’t he,” scoffed the young lancer. “Don’t worry, Professor, I’ll find him; whether he likes it or not. But what about Sylvain?”

“I think I know where he is,” answered Byleth thinking back to her lunch with the redhead m=some weeks back. Byleth walked with purpose to the village. She retraced their steps from the wine merchant’s stall, through the winding alleys until she saw the single purple lantern that marked her destination.

Byleth opened the door to see a young girl slapping a somewhat tipsy Sylvain at the bar and storm past the professor. He saw his professor and quickly turned back to his drink. Byleth silently took a seat beside the redhead and quietly ordered an ale of her own. They sat in silence for a while, drinking before Sylvain let out a heavy sigh.

“I always thought he was a piece of garbage, but I never thought he'd steal the Relic.” Byleth just took a sip of her second mug. “Ah, forget it. If we keep running into each other like this, people will start to talk.”

Byleth glared at the young man and he attempted a smile. “Hey, don't get mad! I was joking. Did you come looking for me?”

“Another lover's quarrel?” asked Byleth, referring to the girl who had stormed out earlier.

“Well, you're not wrong,” sighed the man into his cup. His face was flushed from alcohol and Byleth wondered how long he had been sitting here, drinking and brooding. “I was seeing that girl recently, but I just wanted to have some fun and leave it at that. So, I told her we should break it off. I guess she was feeling a little more serious than I was. She started crying, and everything got a bit...complicated.”

“You're pretty complicated yourself, Sylvain.,” observed Byleth, leaning on the bar as she took a sip of her own drink.

“Come on, Professor. I’m the simplest man you’re likely to ever meet. I'm a good-for-nothing, if you haven't noticed, but I'm still a noble with a Crest,” spat Sylvain, draining his mug. Byleth ordered him another. “That's all anyone cares about. I'm gonna be forced into an arranged marriage with some random noble woman anyway so what does it matter?” Byleth looked away from the young man and they sat in silence as they drank together.

“You didn't know you had a Crest until recently, did you?” asked Sylvain, breaking the silence as he ordered another round.

Byleth shrugged. “It’s not a thing in Morfis and my father never told me about it.”

“I see. I suppose a mercenary from Morfis wouldn't be concerned with such things.”

“What was your experience?” Byleth turned to meet his eyes, but he looked away immediately.

“Most children who are born to noble families are tested upon birth to see if they bear one. Even descendants of the 10 Elites, like myself, can't be legitimate heirs without a Crest,” started Sylvain, shoulders slumped and Byleth realised for the first time she was seeing the real man who hid behind the jokes. “That means, as children, we're only accepted if we're born with one. The heads of most noble houses keep having kids until they get one with a Crest. Those children grow up to be heads of their houses, and the vicious cycle continues.”

“Do you get it now?” he asked, turning to meet her gaze with a hard edge to his voice that Byleth had never expected of Sylvain. “To all these commoner girls, I'm just a trophy. Or rather, a studhorse.”

“You mean they only want you for your bloodline,” answered Byleth with a nod

“See? I knew you'd get it. These girls don't love me. They love the potential rewards of loving me.” Sylvain glared down at his drink. “If I marry a girl and she gives birth to a child with a Crest, that kid might become the next head of House Gautier. But nowadays, with the bloodlines getting weaker, there are a lot of kids like my brother...born with no hope.”

“He didn’t have a Crest?”

“No. My parents disowned him many years ago and it was all because of me,” sighed Sylvian. “For ages now, those of us with Crests have been envied and desired but never for who we are. I understand the value of my blood. Believe me, I hate how much I understand it. I know better than to dream of being free from this burden, I'm used to it by now. I used to think I didn't have the right to live freely.”

“You don't think that way anymore?” asked Byleth, reaching out a hand to touch his arm in an attempt at comfort. The man laughed harshly, draining his mug again.

“That's right.” He turned to face her fully now, looking don at her with sad eyes. “You know what? I'm a bit jealous. The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you.”

“I kind of hate you for that...” The man stood, towering over his teacher for a moment. “You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I'll collect the debt.”

“Maybe you will,” challenged Byleth and the man stepped around her seat to leave.

“Don't mind me, Professor. After all, ladies love a dark and brooding noble,” added Sylvain with a dark laugh before he left the tavern. Byleth sighed and drained her own drink as she thought on Sylvain’s words. Byleth was so lost in thought she almost jumped as a coin pouch was dropped on the counter beside her and she looked up to see Claude smiling at her.

“Fancy meeting you here, Professor,” smiled the charming young noble.

“Are you even old enough to be here, Claude?” sighed Byleth, not ready for another verbal sparring session with the soon-to-be Duke.

“Turned eighteen last month, Professor,” smiled the boy, holding his hand over his chest. “I swear on my bow. However, if I am disturbing a private moment, I will leave you be.” That almost sounded sincere and Byleth shook her head.

“You’re fine, Claude. Just try to avoid being yourself and interrogating me about things I don’t know,” added the professor and the young man took the seat beside her with a smile.

“I can promise to try and nothing more. However, I gotta say, I never would've guessed you were a descendant of the King of Liberation.” Byleth just glared at him. “I’m not asking any questions here, Professor, just remarking that you caught me by surprise. That is quite the feat.”

“I am glad I could exceed your high expectations of me,” responded Byleth as she accepted the drink the boy bought for her.

“You do it all the time. I should really stop being surprised by it.” Byleth glanced at Claude, disbelievingly. “Don't be coy, Teach. You’ve exceeded everyone’s expectations as a professor. And now you can apparently wield the Sword of the Creator; a weapon that has only ever been used by one other person in all of history; Nemesis. If you can use it too, that can only mean you have that bloodline's Crest. You’ve officially gained my full attention.”

“I don't understand why that would be interesting,” shrugged Byleth and the man just shook his head.

“You wouldn’t, coming from Morfis. I can assure you, plenty of people are paying attention to you now.” Byleth just stared at the boy, watching for any tell to indicate he was lying. Byleth wondered if he was just that skilled at deceit, or if he was in fact trying to use honesty to gain her trust. Whatever it was, he just set her teeth on edge.

“Great.”

“Not one to be the centre of attention, Teach?” Claude asked, holding her gaze. “Surely, you haven’t missed that you already draw much attention from my fellow students.” Byleth just shrugged. She’d already had this conversation with the girls who dragged her to tea once a week.

“How many nobles like yourself have the chance to get to know a mercenary?”

“Ha! Well, speaking for nobles like me,” smirked Claude, draining his cup. “You’re fascinating for so much more than just your past as a mercenary. We aren’t all flocking to chat with Shamir.”

“Hmm? And what was it that drew you to me, then?” The young man finally did retreat from her stare, then. Byleth counted that as a victory.

“How much have you had to drink, Teach?” She narrowed her eyes at his change of subject.

“It…it’s been a long…”

“Three months, Teach,” finished Claude with a wink and a smirk. “Well, I think Seteth would have some words for me if I left one of his professors drunk and unaccompanied. Allow to walk you back to the dormitory.”

“If I say no, will you actually leave?” The young man feigned hurt, clutching at his chest.

“Teach, you wound me with your cruel words. You know you like talking to me. I intrigue you, just as much a you intrigue me,” he added with a smile. Byleth snorted and finished her drink.

“Believe what you will, Von Reigan. Walk with me, if you must,” she added as she stepped around the archer and left the tavern. She could _feel_ his smirk even if she refused to look at him.

She continued to ignore him as he walked her to her room. Standing at her door, Claude crossed his arms and leant casually against the frame.

“I almost forgot, Teach. Speaking of people who find you fascinating; Professor Hanneman was looking for you. He probably wants to examine your Crest with those crazy instruments of his. Actually...sounds amusing. Maybe I'll tag along in the morning,” he added with a wink. Byleth just rolled her eyes and closed her door on young noble. She could hear his laughter as he walked away to his own dormitory.


	9. Crest-Bearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I cannot wait for this month to be over.” Dimitri smiled at her flat tone.
> 
> “You might feel different when the first snows hit, Professor.”
> 
> “The first what?” The young prince turned to her; brows raised. He laughed at the entirely too serious expression on his professor’s face drawing the whole class’s eyes.

Verdant Rain Moon really lived up to its name. The downpour came of course when Byleth was in the gardens reading a primer on healing magic Manuela had loaned her the day before. She ran for the safety of the open classroom, thoroughly drenched and dripping. Byleth sign as she pulled off her cloak and started wringing out her hair. Just her damned luck.

“Professor.” Byleth jumped, whirling around on Felix as he stared at her from his desk.

“Fraldarius? What…what are you doing in here?” asked Byleth, teeth beginning to chatter as she squelched in her boots. She sat down at Annette’s desk to pull at the soaked laces, willing her hands to stop damned well shaking.

“I was studying.” His yellow eyes bored into hers and Byleth looked away. Instead she focused on wringing out her clothes. She looked out at the clouds, hoping this rain would clear soon. Byleth didn’t really want to be stuck in a room with Felix of all people.

“Here.” Byleth managed not to jump this time when she turned to see him standing right behind her. She looked down at his hands and the blue died fur cloak he offered her. Byleth looked back up at his face for a moment, unsure. “You’re cold.”

“Ah, thank you,” muttered Byleth, looking back down from his eyes as she accepted the cloak. It was heavy and warm and most importantly dry. She wrapped it around her shoulders breathing in the foreign musty fragrance of well-worn fur. Byleth had never needed such a thick warm cloak before and she made the mental note to buy herself something large and fur the next time she made it to the town.

“You have been avoiding me.” There was only a hint of accusation in his tone and Byleth felt the guilt gnawing at her stomach. It had been three weeks since the Holy Mausoleum and she had limited any contact with Felix wherever possible. She partnered him with other swordsmen during the open sparring and didn’t train with him one on one at any point.

She didn’t go quite as far as to turn and walk the other direction when she saw him. Byleth knew he had noticed that their sparring time had all but disappeared and had made her escape any time he looked like he was going to ask her what was going on. She couldn’t exactly explain the reason to him. At best he’d think she was lying, at worst; mad.

“I-I’m not avoiding you, F-Fraldarius,” managed Byleth through chattering teeth as she pulled his cloak around him.

“Yes, you are.” He moved away from her toward the fireplace. He prodded the embers into flame and threw a log on top. It was like magic the way he coerced flame out of ash. “Sit. You sound ridiculous with your teeth chattering.”

Byleth wanted to refuse, to chastise him for being so disrespectful to a teacher. But that would mean looking at him and every time she did that, she saw him dying under her useless hands. To her discomfit, Felix sat down beside her. The silence that stretched between them made Byleth’s shoulders hurt.

“Have I done something to…anger you?” asked the young swordsman quietly. Byleth turned her head to him quickly, relieved he was looking at the fire and not her.

“N-no. I’m not-“

“Fine. Don’t tell me,” spat the boy, turning away from her. She looked back at the fire, watching as the log popped under the heat. Byleth felt a little like that log, snapping under the silent accusation of his hunched shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” sighed Byleth.

“I don’t need your apologies.” Felix resolutely refused to look at her and the professor swallowed her fear and turned fully to look at him.

“Fraldarius.” He refused to turn. “Felix.”

“Don’t bother.” Felix stood up and walked back to his desk. He picked up his bag and left, even with the downpour outside.

Byleth sat on the stone floor of the Blue Lion classroom in front of the fire he had made, wrapped in his warm, dry cloak and felt like she might actually be the worst professor the Academy had ever appointed. Forcing herself out of self-pity before Sothis made another appearance, Byleth opened her primer and continued from where she had left off on surgical removals before healing.

“Oh, hello, Professor!” Byleth looked up from her book to see Mercedes, flanked by Annette and Dorothea. All three girls looked drenched, freezing and relieved to see the roaring fire. They came and sat by the warmth, holding out their hands to the flames.

“Are you wearing Felix’s cloak, Professor?” asked Mercedes. Dorothea looked her with a sly, knowing smile and Byleth closed her primer.

“Ah, yes. I got caught in the rain and came in here soaked. He hated the sound of my chattering teeth.”

“Aww, just like Felix to be rude about being so sweet,” smiled Annette brightly. Dorothea was still smiling at Byleth.

“Dorothea, stop that.”

“I didn’t say anything, Professor,” smirked the dark-haired singer. “I just feel like we might have told you, a few months back, that, maybe –“

“Stop.” She didn’t want to think about her students harbouring crushes on her. It was mortifying.

“Oh, Professor, you’re learning white magic?” asked Mercedes looking at the book Byleth had been reading.

“I’m trying to,” answered Byleth, grateful for the subject change. Mercedes just beamed.

“Remember how I said I wanted to help in any way I could; I can help you with this, Professor.”

“We all can,” offered Annette, pulling out some sweets from her bag. Dorothea combed her fingers through her hair as she hummed in agreement.

“We are all quite skilled at magic, Professor.”

“I couldn’t. You all have studies of your own to attend to. I couldn’t take time away from that because I want to be able to expand my skillset. I can just book in time with Manuela like anyone else,” refused Byleth. Mercedes was studying for the upcoming bishop exams that were being overseen by the Archbishop, and Annette and Dorothea were working toward their warlock certification that would be held by Seteth.

“Oh, please, Professor. Please let us teach you,” pleaded Annette. “We won’t tell anyone, promise.” As usual, Byleth found herself completely unable to refuse the little mage anything. And that was how Byleth found herself agreeing to every second week being tutored in white magic by the three mages after open sparring.

With her schedule so packed Byleth completely forgot to see Hanneman about her Crest. She lectured every morning during the week and worked with sparring partners in the afternoons. At night she read and wrote arguments on the extra tactics essays she assigned Sylvain, Ingrid, Annette and Dimitri; helped Mercedes and Ashe in the kitchen; or sat in the greenhouse with Dedue and Annette, weeding.

On her free day each week, she held open sparring in the morning, followed by tea with the crowd of female students that had grown to include Petra who wanted to practice conversation and Lysithea who grumbled it distracted from her studies, but who diligently showed up to each afternoon. If she wasn’t at tea, she was practicing magic with Mercedes, Dorothea and Annette; or she joined Manuela for a glass of wine to listen to the songstress’ endless dating troubles.

It was on her way to one of those wine sessions that Hanneman caught Byleth in the hall.

“Professor Eisner.”

“Oh, Professor Von Essar. I assure you I haven’t been avoiding you. I have just be –“

“Busy. I am all too aware, Professor. My class talks about you often. If I were a lesser person, I might find myself jealous of your evident popularity.” Byleth shifted uncomfortably.

“Your students are a lot more disciplined than I had expected them to be when I met them. They really throw themselves into training,” complimented Byleth, not sure what else to say. It was the truth; the Golden Deer were a raucous bunch and she would never have been able to control Claude and Hilda.

“Yes,” agreed the older man, holding open his office door. “Please, do come in. I promise not to take more than a moment of your time.” Byleth nodded, following her colleague into the office. On the floor of his office was a larger version of the handheld device he had used to scan her for a Crest.

“I've heard much about you lately. Specifically, that you were able to awaken the Sword of the Creator's power,” he added, glancing down at the Relic Byleth had taken to carrying with her everywhere. She just didn’t feel comfortable leaving it to gather dust on her desk. “Thusly, it seems the true nature of your Crest has been uncovered.”

“Oh?” Byleth was surprised. He had seemed so perplexed the last time they spoke.

“I had, of course, seen your Crest before. However, at first, I failed to recognize its true nature. Eventually, it dawned on me that what was visible was perhaps merely a small part of a greater whole. In other words, your Crest is too significant to be detected when using normal instruments,” grinned Hanneman, excited by his discovery. “After this discovery, I began researching Crests that might fit that description, which allowed for a temporary hypothesis. However, I could not be certain. The Crest my conclusions led me to was far too unusual. A Crest thought to have disappeared in this world in the millennium since the fall of Nemesis, the King of Liberation. The Crest of Flames. That is what you possess.”

“The Crest of Flames?” Hanneman nodded, matter-of-factly.

“Please, hold your hand over the device on the floor, if you will.” Byleth did as asked and watched as he fiddled with some dials she didn’t understand. There, she saw the full Crest. It looked like a crown made of flames.

“As I suspected.” Hanneman hummed in approval, meeting Byleth’s eyes over his glasses. “Your ability to wield the Sword of the Creator had provided me my hypothesis. A legendary power, dormant since time immemorial, and now resurrected... There can be no doubt that this ancient power resides within you now.”

“What is this power?”

“I do not know,” admitted the scholar. “If you will allow it, I will do some further research, and may ask you for some donations of blood in order to aid in the research. This Crest has been lost for millennia, so its power has never before been documented.”

“Please, do. I’m happy to help however I can. I would like to understand what this is.”

“Of course, Professor. I will not hold you any longer. We both know our colleague is not the most patient woman,” added the older man with a knowing smile.

“Thank you, Hanneman.” Byleth was more than happy to be distracted by Manuela’s disastrous forays into romance, rather than think about the fact she might be descended from some ancient king.

The next morning was far less pleasant than her afternoon with Manuela. She stood before Rhea and Seteth, knowing exactly what they were going to assign her class as their mission this month. They did not disappoint.

“I would like for you to take your students into Kingdom territory to eliminate some thieves,” began Rhea and the dread pooled in Byleth’s stomach. She had known it been coming from the moment Ingrid came to her earlier in the morning.

“They stole a Hero's Relic from House Gautier of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus–the Lance of Ruin. Their leader's name is Miklan. He is apparently a disowned son of House Gautier.”

“The Crestless cannot unless the goddess's power, even if they possess a Relic. Nonetheless, they are still capable of simply wielding those weapons,” continued Rhea indifferent to the accusing glare Byleth turned to her.

“The Heroes' Relics are immensely powerful weapons,” added Seteth. “We must meet this threat with adequate force. Unfortunately, most of the Knights of Seiros are away from the monastery purging the apostates of the Western Church. So, we are entrusting you with this mission. After all, you wield the Sword of the Creator, which is more than capable of opposing any Relic.”

“The Sword of the Creator is a powerful weapon, well beyond the other Relics,” agreed Rhea with the same frustratingly serene smile plastered on her face. Byleth maintained her calm by envisioning the feel of slapping the Archbishop with all of her strength. “You have nothing to fear. However, to ensure that no harm comes to the students, we will also send the monastery's most skilled individuals to aid you.” How kind of her to finally show a modicum of concern for the children entrusted to her care.

“I must remind you that you are expected to conduct yourself in a manner befitting the wielder of that holy sword,” added Seteth by way of dismissal. Byleth was grinding her teeth as she left the room and saw an equally stony-faced Dimitri waiting in the hall.

“I heard about our mission for this month. I'm sorry for dragging you into the Kingdom's petty squabbles. This should not be your burden to bear, but my own...” sighed Dimitri, running his hand down his face in exasperation.

“I'm happy to help you out, Dimitri,” assured Byleth. Dimitri met her eyes with a small, sad smile.

“Thank you, Professor. Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease.” At that moment the father of the indigo haired boy Byleth had spent the past month avoiding, and whose cloak she still had folded in her trunk, walked up to them. He looked almost exactly like Felix, except for the smile on his face. Byleth had never seen such a carefree expression on her student’s face

“Your Highness? I take it this is the professor I have been hearing so much about?” grinned the older man.

“Of course. Professor Eisner, this is Rodrigue; my father’s oldest friend. I believe I've mentioned him, if you recall. When my father died four years ago, he looked after me as though I were his own son,” he added with fond glance at Felix’s father. The man laughed in response, holding out a hand to Byleth.

“You flatter me, Your Highness. It was my honour to care for such a fine, young man.” He turned his smile to Byleth and bowed over her hand to place a chaste kiss upon her knuckles, just had Dimitri had done on her first day at the Academy. The gesture still embarrassed the former mercenary. “It's nice to finally meet you, Professor. My son, Felix, has mentioned you on occasion when he has bothered to write me.”

“Felix? That’s a surprise.” The man chuckled.

“He is an odd boy and speaks little, but he tells me you are the finest swordsman he’s ever encountered, so take that as high praise as far my son’s opinions go,” smiled Rodrigue. Remembering Dorothea’s words, Byleth moved to pivot the conversation as quickly as possible, scrambling to remember what title the man before her held. Duke? Shit, I hope it’s Duke, thought Byleth.

“What brought you to the monastery, Duke Fraldarius? Is it the thieves plaguing the Kingdom?” asked Byleth, deciding to stick to formality as the commoner in the conversation. Who knew what these lords would find offensive or not?

“I'm afraid so. This is not merely a problem for House Gautier, but for everyone,” explained Lord Fraldarius. “The thieves have set up their headquarters in Fraldarius territory and are mercilessly pillaging the villages of that area. You have our full support in stopping those bastards. I thank you for your help, both of you.” Byleth nodded, understanding now why he had sought the help of the Church. The son disowned or not, of a neighbouring lord sowing chaos in his own territory. It was a shit cake any way you cut it. Better to make Rhea cut it.

“Say, I hear that a Knight of Seiros named Gilbert will be joining us for our mission this moon,” continued Dimitri as they walked out of the faculty building. “He is skilled, which is surely a boon for us. Still... That was not very thoughtful of Lady Rhea.”

“Do you know him?” asked Byleth, while Duke Fraldarius remained silent, walking behind them.

“Ahh, well... No, I do not. Not really. All I will say is that we have trained together a few times in the past,” added Dimitri and Byleth looked at him feeling a niggling suspicion at the back of her mind.

“Is there something I should know?” Dimitri did not have a chance to answer as Annette ran over to Byleth.

“Professor!” Dimitri had nothing on Claude and Byleth clocked his immediate discomfit at the mage’s presence. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen a man with hair like mine, probably in heavy armour.”

“Sorry, Annie, no,” answered the professor truthfully. The girl swore under breath and took off at a run, making Byleth turn on Dimitri with a questioning look.

“I see you have things to discuss,” stated Rodrigue by way of farewell. “Professor, if I may; I have looked for my son in the training yard to no avail. Do you happen to know where his rooms are?”

“Second floor dormitory toward the end of the hall, beside Dimitri’s. There’s a weapon’s rack if that helps.”

“Thank you, my lady,” smiled Rodrigue as he bowed his farewell. “Your Highness.” Then, he was off to find his son. Dimitri tried to move, but Byleth grabbed his arm.

“Talk,” order Byleth. The prince positively squirmed under Byleth’s unwavering gaze. He sighed, looking down.

“Annette’s father and Sir Gilbert are one. He left Faerghus after the Tragedy of Duscur and changed his name.” Dimitri was saved from Byleth’s questions as Leonie came up to her. The young woman had an odd one-sided rivalry with Byleth she didn’t understand, but steadfastly ignored.

“Professor, Captain Jeralt was looking for you. He was in the knights’ hall just a little while ago.” Leonie didn’t wait for the professor’s thanks as she turned on her heel and stormed off toward the training yard. Byleth turned her blue eyes on Dimitri.

“We will finish this, Dimitri,” promised Byleth as she turned and walked toward the knights’ hall. Hilda almost ran into her as Byleth turned the corner.

“Oh, Professor. Sorry,” apologised the pink haired girl with a smile. “Say, have you noticed that it's been one thing after another since you got here. I thought school would be boring. Is that just a coincidence, I wonder?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” answered Byleth honestly, and the girl recoiled.

“What do you mean? I don't like the way you said that. Stop trying to spook me!” exclaimed the girl, as Byleth walked past. She entered the knight’s hall and saw Catherine talking to a man with Annette’s hair – Sir Gilbert obviously.

“Sorry, to interrupt, Catherine.”

“Ah, Professor Eisner. I’m not sure if you’ve met Sir Gilbert,” introduced the blonde knight with a smile. Byleth nodded to the man with the long ginger plait and a face that managed to outdo Seteth in its sternness, not interested in stopping to chat.

“A pleasure,” greeted Byleth. “Apologies to be so rude, but Leonie said Captain Jeralt was looking for me. Have you seen him around?”

“Ah, yes. He left earlier to visit the graveyard by the faculty building, Professor.” Byleth nodded her thanks and made her way back up to the faculty building. She stopped to ask directions from a passing guard. Byleth found her father kneeling by a grave with no name on the stone. He had placed wildflowers at its base and was murmuring to himself as if holding a quiet conversation with himself. Not that she could judge.

“Father?” He looked up at her, rising to stand as Byleth walked toward him.

“By, I wanted to ask you to join me, but I couldn't find you. So here I am.” He looked down at the tombstone sadly. “I was thinking we should visit...your mother. She's resting beneath this humble grave...” Byleth looked down at the grave as silence stretched between them, the sun moving toward the horizon. She didn’t know what to say. Questions buzzed around her skull like flies swarming a corpse on a hot day.

Byleth looked at the gravestone, the name of her mother worn away by time, but she could make out the dates; 1139-1159. She did the math in her head; Byleth would be turning twenty-one this year and that meant she was older than her mother when she died.

“What was she like?” asked Byleth, breaking the silence with her quiet question.

“I wouldn't know where to begin... I suppose I haven't talked much about her,” sighed Jeralt, looking down at his daughter. “She was gentle and smart. So smart. A wonderful cook. Always kind to everyone. And...she loved flowers. Whenever I brought her back an unusual flower, her face would light up. I cherish those memories. I can't count how many times she made me happy just by smiling.”

For a moment Byleth thought her father was about to cry, his voice shuddering. He took a deep breath before continuing. “And she smiled the most...when she was pregnant with you. She couldn’t spend much time with you. But she loved you with all her heart. That's the truest thing I know.” Her father pulled something from his pocket and took his daughter hand. She looked down to see a ring; delicate and silver with small green stones. “This ring is the only keepsake I have of her. I want you to have it, and perhaps…one day, maybe you'll give this ring to someone you love as well as I love her; as much as I love you.”

Byleth looked up at her father in this rare moment of intimacy. She closed her fist gently around the ring. “I love you, too, father.”

The ride to Conand Tower had been tense at best. Looking up at the clouds above, heralding a fierce storm Byleth thought that whoever Fόdlan’s goddess was, she certainly had a sense of irony. A storm brewed behind her in her students. Byleth sighed, drawing Dimitri and Sir Gilbert’s gazes.

“Conand Tower should be in our sights soon, Professor.”

“This area was the site of a massive battle several hundred years ago,” muttered Sir Gilbert. The man knew a frustratingly large amount of Faerghus history, but Byleth kept her mouth shut. “That's when invasions from the north were at their peak. Back then, this tower was built for both surveillance and defence. It will be difficult to seize it.”

Byleth looked up as the rain started to fall, pattering across the road and she pulled up the hood of her cloak – well, Felix’s cloak. She hadn’t quite brought herself to visit the boy yet and return his cloak. Even now, she could feel his yellow eyes boring into her back even as Dimitri spoke.

“Professor. Did you see the local villages? They were in rough shape, no doubt because of the thief attacks. They're not going to make it through the winter in that condition.’” Byleth nodded. The villages they had passed, if they could still be called such, were all but razed to the ground. Children crying in the burned fields over the corpses of their parents and siblings. These bandits were a special kind of brutal.

“If the thieves had taken up pillaging in order to survive, that would be deplorable, but understandable. This is something else entirely. It looks as though they destroyed those villages purely for pleasure.”

“Not everyone in this world is good, Dimitri,” said Byleth, tucking her dark hair under the warm fur hood as Sylvain joined them, red hair plastered down his face by the rain. He smiled tightly at the pair.

“Don't bother trying to understand those lowlifes, Your Highness. It's wasted effort,” quipped the young man.

“I know he's been disowned, but...” Sylvain shook his head, pushing back the drenched hair from his face.

“He is no longer a member of House Gautier...or my brother. He's nothing more than a common thief,” interrupted Sylvain, his voice harder and more serious than Byleth had come to expect from the noble.

“Are you sure about that?” questioned Dimitri as they dismounted under the cover of the woods. “It would be understandable to find this situation...well, regrettable, to say the least.”

“Regrets? Heh, you must be joking,” chuckled Sylvain darkly as he unloaded the tent from his own stallion. “You know we're far past the point of regret. And it always falls on the younger brother to clean up the mistakes of their elders, doesn't it?” With that the red-haired lancer walked off to help Dedue set up camp.

“This rain threatens a coming storm. We must hurry and begin our strategy before the heavens let loose,” sighed Dimitri and Byleth nodded.

“I cannot wait for this month to be over.” Dimitri smiled at her flat tone.

“You might feel different when the first snows hit, Professor.”

“The first what?” The young prince turned to her; brows raised. He laughed at the entirely too serious expression on his professor’s face drawing the whole class’s eyes.

“What have you done to Dimitri, Professor?” asked Sylvain feigning concern. Mercedes even reached out a hand as if checking the prince’s temperature. Dimitri kept trying to reign it back in, but every time he looked at Byleth he just doubled over in mirth again.

“She….asked….about…” The boy was genuinely gasping for air, making Dedue’s face twist in concern.

“I asked what snow is.” There was a long and deafening moment of silence before every single one of her students started to laugh, even Felix and Dedue joined their classmates in laughing at her. Byleth just rolled her eyes as she unloaded her pack from Mutt.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” managed Dimitri, wiping tears of mirth from his face. “It’s just…”

“There is much snow in Faerghus,” finished Dedue, the corners of his mouth still twitching.

“Goddess, in Gautier lands it snows in summer,” added Sylvain, still chuckling to himself as he tried to put up the tent. “It’s not a question I ever thought to hear.”

“Whatever it is, Morfis doesn’t have it,” shrugged Byleth as they all worked to set up the camp.

“Well, it’s wet,” attempted Mercedes, setting off a sort of game with the Blue Lions attempting to explain snow to Byleth while Dedue got the campfire started. Byleth interrupted Ashe, tone actually betraying a hint of disgust.

“It gets colder?” asked the professor and Mercedes smiled.

“We’ll have to get you a nice thick cloak, Professor, so you can return Felix’s,” giggled the older girl. Byleth glanced at the swordsman for a moment at the mention of his name, looking away as soon as his eyes met hers.

“The winter is really quite lovely, Professor,” continued Annette, leaning over a book close to the light of the fire. “Everything is so quiet under the snow.”

“Everything looks so beautiful, too,” added Ashe with a small smile as if he was looking at a fond memory. Byleth felt herself shiver involuntarily.

“I don’t know how much colder I can handle,” grumbled Byleth, more to herself than anyone. Her words set the kids off snickering again. Byleth shook her head, her fingers finding the ring she had slipped onto a thin strip of leather around her neck. She wondered if her mother hated the cold, too.


	10. First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have smiled,” countered Byleth taking a sip from her mug.
> 
> “She does smile when she is sparring against Felix or Petra,” agreed Claude with a nod, making Sylvain groan.
> 
> “You only smile when sparring? Ugh, you and Felix may as well be the same person. After Glenn died that was the only way you could get him to smile.” Sylvain drained his cup at that signalling to the barkeep for another.
> 
> “I smile at more than just sparring,” retorted Byleth. “Perhaps neither of you is as funny nor charming as you think you are.”

Byleth was soaking wet and fucking exhausted. She blocked another arrow, whipping out the Relic in her hands at the archer as she blinked at the rain in her eyes.

She had left Dedue, Ingrid and Sir Gilbert somewhere a floor back, guarding Mercedes as she worked diligently on Ashe’s torn shoulder. Byleth had wanted to stay with the boy, but it made no sense when he had half their forces by him and Miklan was still somewhere in this cursed tower. The best thing she could do for the kid was get this damned battle done quickly.

“Annette, take out the archers!” ordered Byleth, yelling over the crack of thunder from above. She couldn’t feel her hands around the hilt of the Sword of the Creator feel the icy chill of the rain pouring from destroyed roof. Annette blew the archers off the roof with a powerful wind spell and Byleth grabbed Felix and pointed to the man at the centre of squad of lancers. That bright red hair could only come from Sylvain’s family and he held a white bone like lance that she assumed was the Relic they’d been sent for.

“Sylvain, Dimitri! Protect our backs. Let’s finish this bullshit.” Annette fell in just behind Felix and Byleth as they advanced. Byleth blocked an axe, kicking its wielder across the damp floor, leaving him open for Sylvain to drive his lance through the man’s chest.

“Don't hold back for my sake. My brother is going to pay for everything he's done,” spat Sylvain as he pulled his lance free. Byleth nodded, bring her sword down on the arm of a lancer blocked by Felix on her right. The five of them pushed through Miklan’s bandits until Sylvain broke through. His thrust was knocked aside by Miklan, the man wore a grim smile.

“Why have you come, you Crest-bearing fool?” barked the older brother. Byleth blocked a axe on her left, trying to cut herself a path to her student. “If not for you... If it hadn't been for you...”

“You’d still be a right shit, Miklan,” spat Sylvain as he dodged the Lance of Ruin.

“Felix, get to Sylvain!” ordered Byleth, as she pushed another warrior back from Annette. She smashed her hilt into a man’s face, following behind the blow with the arc of her blade. It was as if the Sword of the Creator felt her needs as Byleth whipped the extendable blade toward an archer aiming at her mage.

“Professor! Watch out!” Byleth turned at the sound of Felix’s voice. She saw Miklan’s lance coming toward her faster than she could have thought the older Gautier would move. She couldn’t block the Relic in time and tried to turn with the blow in order to lessen the impact and she felt it slice through her leather shoulder guard. Byleth continued her turn, pirouetting out of reach as the hot blood began to fill her sleeve, dripping down her sword.

Byleth raised her sword as the large man rushed her, ready to redirect his lance just as she often did when Dimitri’s temper got the better of him in the training yard. Instead lightning crackled around the disowned Gautier and he was thrown from her with the force of the magic summoned. The mercenary looked over at Annette who stared wide eyed, not even a hint of static around her hands.

“Are you OK, Professor?” asked Felix and Byleth looked at his outstretched hand as realisation dawned on her. Lightning still crackled around his fingers as Felix lowered his hand. He’d studied something other than the sword while she wasn’t paying attention.

“Not bad for your kind...” groaned Miklan as he clambered to his feet, spitting blood. “A bunch of spoiled rotten children.”

The Lance of Ruin's Crest Stone began to glow with an ominous red light, as if it was reacting to a Crest Byleth knew its wielder did not bear. She grabbed Felix who was closest to the redhead and jerked him behind her roughly. A black and red substance emerged from the Crest Stone and Miklan screamed in agony as the substance started to burn into his flesh.

“What the hell?!”

The five of them watched in horror as the substance consumed Miklan’s body, the man screaming beneath it all. Miklan's body grew and the horrific screams finally began to subside as the black and red sludge dripped from the creature before them. The horrifying beast before them was no longer a man and it howled at the sight of prey.

“What the–Miklan?!” gasped Sylvain, lance at the ready as he stepped in front of his injured professor with Dimitri.

_That form... Oh my._

“So, this is the power of a Hero's Relic...” muttered Dimitri. He readied himself beside Sylvain.

“This fucking day will never end,” muttered Byleth, as she gritted her teeth against the gnawing pain in her shoulder. She moved to Dimitri’s right as Felix took up Sylvain’s left. “Annette, stay back. When it’s guard is down, I want you to throw as many spells as you can summon at it!”

The fight was a blur. There were talons coming down toward her. The cold wet stone below as Byleth slipped. Thunder rolled above. Water or blood splashed across her face. The beast yowled and Byleth rolled to her feet. Dimitri had been knocked back, head lolling to the side alarmingly as Sylvain launched himself at the beast with Felix at his side. Fire light cast everything in a strange hue as Annette’s spells flew over their heads at the monster.

Byleth rushed to Dimitri’s side. She grabbed the young man’s face. “Come on, Dimitri. Wake up, you blond idiot.” The man chuckled as his eyes fluttered open.

“That’s no way to talk to a future king,” coughed the boy as he winced, hand flying to his side. Byleth, pushed his hand away and unbuckled the chest plate. Behind her she heard something crash and saw Felix roll to his feet, his sword stuck in the beast’s neck.

“It is exactly what you call a future idiot king,” snapped Byleth as she pulled his shirt up. Already a spectacular bruise was spilling out under his skin. He’d broken something, maybe punctured a lung if his wet gasps of breath were any indication. _Shit_. The thud behind her, Byleth hoped was the beast finally falling dead on the stone.

Byleth move quickly, removing her sword belt and handing it to the prince. “Bite down. This is going to hurt.” She didn’t wait for an acknowledgement from Dimitri as she pressed her hands against his flesh. He hissed in pain, quick to bite down on the leather to stop himself from crying out as she reached inside his body with her burgeoning white magic.

Byleth pulled the rib bones back together, forcing the torn flesh of his lung to knit back together. She could hear his muffled screams, but Dimitri did well not to move under her merciless healing. Her hands began to shake as the battle haze faded from her vision and Byleth finally sat back once it felt as though her student’s lungs were repaired.

“Thank you, Professor,” managed Dimitri, placing a warm gloved hand over her cold shaking fingers. “It's over... Let's retrieve the lance and leave this place.” Byleth nodded, rising to her feet and accepting her belt back from Dimitri. She helped the young prince to his feet, and he still winced with pain. Behind her the monster had disappeared in the rain, leaving the soaked corpse of Miklan Gautier, still gripping the Lance of Ruin.

“Miklan...my brother...” whispered Sylvain as he pulled the lance from his dead brother’s grip. “Well, he wasn’t much of one, but still.” Felix rested a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder for a moment, a gesture Byleth might’ve missed if she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Let’s go.” Byleth took Dimitri’s arm, gesturing for him to lean his weight on her. She’d patched up his lung and ribs, but he still needed a more experienced hand.

Mercedes, Ingrid, Ashe, Dedue and Gilbert were waiting for them below. Dedue rushed over to Dimitri, taking his weight from Byleth. Mercedes came over to the prince, ordering him to sit in a tone that begged no argument.

“Are you OK?” asked Ingrid quietly as she came over to Sylvain, looking between the redhead and the swordsman at his side. Byleth accepted Annette’s help in removing the torn pauldron from her shoulder and bit her lip as the ginger mage tended to the gash that was still bleeding down her arm.

“I’ll be fine, Ingrid.”

 _That man... His form was changed._ Sothis’ voice was blessedly quiet as Byleth took a deep breath. Her arm was still covered in blood, but Annette’s steady attention had healed the worst of the wound. Nature would handle the rest.

“We should get to the camp for the night. Dedue, help His Highness. Gilbert, please help Ashe. I think we could all do with a rest.”

Back at camp Byleth found herself joined by Dimitri as she warmed herself in the early morning. The storm had finally rolled by them through the night. She pulled Felix’s cloak tight around her shoulders against the chill of the night and tried to will herself not to shiver.

“The possession of Relics and Crests has been highly valued in Faerghus since ancient times,” sighed Dimitri, pulling his gloves off and handing them to the professor. “Your hands are still shaking.”

“Thank you.” Byleth’s eyes glanced down at the barely visible lines of Dimitri’s Crest of Blaiddyd across his left hand as she pulled on his gloves. She hadn’t really noticed it before.

“It's far from uncommon for someone to lose their ability to lead their house because they don't bear a Crest. It happened to my uncle as well,” continued Dimitri, as he held out his hands over the flames of the burgeoning campfire. “The eldest child of the king, and yet he never ascended to the throne. All families whose bloodlines carry Crests of the 10 Elites are much the same. But House Gautier takes it a step further, and absolutely requires an heir who possesses a Crest.”

“Why House Gautier in particular?” asked Byleth.

“To that house, the power of Crests is a necessity, not a luxury. House Gautier holds the most northern territory in the Kingdom, and they have fought with the people to the north for many years,” explained Dimitri. The head of that house is responsible for protecting that territory from fearsome invaders, whom they keep at bay with the power of Crests and Relics. In exchange for that responsibility, they are granted special privileges within the Kingdom.”

“Strength is strength, with or without a Crest.” Byleth wondered whether she would have noticed her own supposedly forgotten Crest if she had grown up in Fόdlan. Would a noble have tried to claim her for his family? The thought made her shudder. Suddenly, she understood Sylvain’s animosity toward her.

“I believe the same,” agreed Dimitri, with a sad smile. “Ability cannot be measured by the possession of a Crest alone. I believe that Margrave Gautier was wrong to disinherit Miklan because he did not bear a Crest.” Silence stretched between them as the campfire crackled in the early morning. Byleth felt her eyes drawn back to Dimitri’s Crest. She had never seen one before; she didn’t even know whether her own marked her body somewhere she hadn’t noticed before.

“Imagine what this world would be like if no one placed any stock in Crests... Bloodlines that carry Crests would dwindle. The metaphorical blade used to oppose threats would eventually rest.” Dimitri turned his gaze to her and Byleth watched him debate with himself. “This same argument has been made time and time again across the years. Both sides are at once right and wrong.”

“What do you believe, Dimitri?” asked Byleth. The young prince looked down at his hands, to the faint lines of Blaiddyd over his left hand.

“I believe those with Crests and those without should acknowledge the others' strengths and learn to respect each other based on personal merits. The same holds true for lineage, race, faith, ideologies...” added the young man, and Byleth caught a glimpse of that dark fire he kept lowered behind his polite mask. “Everyone has something that is unacceptable within them. I certainly do, and I'd wager you do as well. I wonder which is best, Professor...to cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway.”

“If we cut away every part of ourselves people deemed unacceptable, there wouldn’t be much of us left, Dimitri.” The prince laughed at her words. He shook his head, still chuckling as the other students started to wake.

The ride back to the monastery was quiet. Ingrid and Felix, while not saying much stayed close to Sylvain on the road. Dedue and Ashe were talking quietly between themselves about cooking and Mercedes and Annette rode beside Byleth and Dimitri, looking back over their shoulders at Sylvain with concern.

As they dismounted at the monastery, Byleth asked Ingrid and Dimitri to stable the horses for them. “Sylvain, come with me.”

Byleth walked back through the gate with the quiet lancer behind her. In silence Byleth led Sylvain to the quiet bar in town he had stated was his favourite. The young man managed a small smile for her as she ordered him to sit and ordered a round of ale.

“You don’t have to talk about it, or anything for that matter,” offered Byleth as she passed him his mug.

“Thank you, Professor.” Sylvain smiled as he accepted the ale, almost completely downing the entire first mug. They drank in silence, and Byleth kept the ale flowing until they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Teach, Gautier; imagine seeing you here.” Byleth looked up at Claude joining their table without so much as an invitation. He did sit bearing three mugs of ale, however, which was enough for Sylvain to break out a grin.

“You know what, you’re not as bad as people say, Von Reigan,” grinned Sylvain as he clinked his mug against the archer’s. Claude raised a brow at the drunk lancer.

“What are people saying, Sylvain? I’ll have you know I’m an absolute paragon of generosity.”

“And is that what this is?” asked Byleth, eyes narrowing just a little. Drunk as she was her usual emotionless mask had slipped away about two cups ago.

“You wound me, Teach. You two were sitting here miserable and silent over drinks so I thought I would come and lighten the mood.” Claude held his hand over his heart, but still gave her conspiratorial wink that made Byleth roll her eyes.

“And how were you going to manage that?” asked Sylvain. “Please tell me we are going to devise a scheme to get Professor to smile. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile since you got here,” added the redhead turning his gaze to Byleth.

“I have smiled,” countered Byleth taking a sip from her mug.

“She does smile when she is sparring against Felix or Petra,” agreed Claude with a nod, making Sylvain groan.

“You only smile when sparring? Ugh, you and Felix may as well be the same person. After Glenn died that was the only way you could get him to smile.” Sylvain drained his cup at that signalling to the barkeep for another.

“I smile at more than just sparring,” retorted Byleth. “Perhaps neither of you is as funny nor charming as you think you are.” Both students feigned hurt at her words. Claude leant over to Sylvain pretending to whisper, but loud enough for Byleth to hear.

“Sylvain, I suggest we bombard Teach here with all our charm and wit until she finally cracks and admits that there are no two men more charming in all of Fόdlan.“ The redhead grinned at Claude’s suggestion and Byleth shook her head, draining her mug and rising from her seat.

“Absolutely not. It is late and high time I went to bed.”

“Please, Professor, let us escort you,” smiled Sylvain. “We could never allow a lady such as yourself to walk unaccompanied at night. Who knows what ruffians may be about at this hour?”

“I could best you drunk and blindfolded, Gautier,” retorted Byleth with a steady glare. The redhead just grinned widely.

“Should buy a man dinner before you make such lewd suggestions, Professor,” gasped the lancer and she rolled her eyes. She grabbed Felix’s cloak off her chair and stormed out of the inn as Claude and Sylvain laughed at her.

The cold air sobered Byleth up as she stepped out in the autumn night. It still smelt of rain as she walked up the road to the monastery and she pulled the cloak tight around herself to shield against the frigid breeze. Lost in thought Byleth was stunned as she walked through the monastery and felt something cold and wet on her nose.

Stunned Byleth stopped in her tracks and looked up. She saw a white substance falling around her, like ash during a wildfire. She held out her hand and watched as the bits caught in Dimitri’s glove melted.

“The boar will be disappointed to have missed your first snow,” grunted a voice behind her and Byleth whirled around a little too quickly at Felix’s voice. The world spun for a moment and she felt a strong hand catch her as she stumbled.

“You’ve been drinking,” added the young man, nose wrinkled in disgust. Byleth steadied herself on his arm for a moment and felt her cheeks redden.

“Someone had to distract Sylvain. Dwelling on something he couldn’t change wouldn’t help,” muttered Byleth as she fixed the cloak about her shoulders. Looking up she realised that Felix was just in his usual uniform. “Do you want your cloak back? I’m sorry that I haven’t returned it.”

“I have others,” dismissed Felix. “This is no colder than the summer snows I grew up with.”

“Teach!” Claude’s voice bounced through the night. “Teach, we were only playing!” Felix rolled his eyes and glared at the Alliance noble as he staggered up the road, with Sylvain half asleep on his shoulder.

“Oh, thank the Goddess; Felix. I have no idea where Sylvain sleeps.”

“Above me,” answered Byleth, and both young men snapped their eyes toward her. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s a very respectfully quiet neighbour. Felix, can you help Claude put Sylvain to bed?”

“Fine.” The swordsman took the other arm and Sylvain’s head lolled to the side. The redhead smiled sloppily at Felix.

“Hey, Fe. Don’t think our professor is just so…pretty. She has hair like yours, but not so…Felixy…” The young swordsman’s cheeks turned red with the embarrassment Byleth felt. “I just wanna brush it…”

“Ha!” laughed Claude, gifting Byleth a wink. “Looks like our drunken friend here has a crush on you, Professor.”

“Sylvain has a crush on anything with a pulse,” retorted Byleth, deadpan. “Get him to bed, and make sure he has some water nearby. He’s going to feel it tomorrow.” With that she turned and made her way to her own bedroom, closing the heavy wooden door on the sharp wind and lightly dusting snow that fell.

The next morning, it was Sothis who roused Byleth. Her voice piercing through the haze of a hangover seemingly for the fun of it.

 _Wake up!_ Byleth grumbled at the girl, opening her eyes just a fraction to see her perched on the desk, looking out the window. _I want you to see it!_

“See what?” muttered Byleth, sighing as she rose, taking the blankets with her. It was damned cold this morning. She joined her…honestly, what should she call Sothis? An invisible, totally not imaginary friend?

 _Stop thinking so loud and look!_ Byleth looked out her window to see the world entirely blanketed in white. She had never seen anything like it in all her life. _This is what it looks when it snows all night_.

An excited knock at the door made Sothis pop back into the nothingness of Byleth’s mind. “Professor!” It was Ashe at her door, his voice excited.

Luckily, she had been too drunk last night to pull of more than her boots and Felix’s cloak, so she was still fully dressed in her black breeches, shirt and overcoat when she opened the door. The young green-eyed man grinned at her. “We wanted to ask if you wanted to join us in the snow.”

Looking past the boy, Byleth saw Annette, Mercedes, Dimitri, Ingrid and even Dedue out in the snow, building fortifications out of the frozen white powder. Byleth looked back at Ashe and raised a brow. “What are you doing?”

“A snowball fight,” answered Ashe with a grin. “Come on, think of it as a practical tactics lesson,” added the boy and Byleth couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her lips at his enthusiasm.

“Let me put on some warmer clothes.” Byleth grabbed the cloak, sure to button it tightly and pulled the hood over her hair. She pulled on her boots and laced them as tight as she could over her pants, anything to keep the snow getting to her skin. She fumbled around her desk and found Dimitri’s oversized gloves, pulling them on with a silent prayer of thanks to the prince.

“Professor!” laughed Dimitri, out in nothing more than an overcoat and gloves like some kind of madman. “It’s not that cold. You look like a Sreng nomad bundled up in all that fur.”

“Never seen a nomad look that good,” laughed Sylvain as he leant out his window above her and waved down. He had a very large mug of tea in his hand, lounging in his window in just pants and a shirt like it wasn’t so cold the clouds had frozen and fallen to the earth. They were all mad. At least he wasn’t brooding.

“Come down and join us, Sylvain,” called Annette, flushed from either the cold or the exertion of building her little wall.

“But from up here I can watch you beautiful ladies get pink from the cold. The snow really does make you all look so much more beautiful,” laughed the man from his window seat. He was promptly splattered in the face by a large ball of packed snow and he spluttered, jumping from his seat to get the freezing snow out of his shirt. “Ingrid!”

“Shut up and do something about it,” taunted the blonde from behind her own wall, packing another snowball to levy at the redhead.

“Oh, you are so dead,” threatened Sylvain. The man drained his tea and disappeared from the window seat. Ingrid smirked with victory.

“So, will you join my team, Professor? Or Ingrid’s?” asked the prince with a smile she hadn’t seen in some time. The early snow was good for something at least. Ingrid had Annette and Mercedes; not a lot in the way of firepower. Whereas, Dimitri had Dedue and Ashe, and likely, Sylvain if he was to get his revenge.

“Ingrid’s – you don’t stand a chance.” Dedue smiled at the challenge and bunkered down behind his own wall as Mercedes threw the first shot. Dimitri grinned as he lobbed a snowball at Byleth, and she just managed to dodge out the way and into the cover of Annette’s lopsided wall. The battle was in full swing by the time Sylvain joined the Prince’s team.

It was Ashe who succeeded in getting the first hit on Byleth. She gasped at the ice-cold snow as it slid down the back of her overcoat, under the many warm layers she had bundled herself in. It was like being scalded by hot tea and yet completely different. Thankfully, she warmed herself enough with the exertion of lobbing and dodging snowballs at the boys.

She saw Sylvain catch Ingrid, dumping a fistful of snow into her hair with a wicked grin. Dedue got hit when Annette used a weak wind spell to dump snow over his well-made fortification and Ashe rolled in the snow with laughter at the drenched giant. Mercedes had slipped over at one point, kicking a portion of her own barricade free and straight into Dimitri’s face. That had made Byleth laugh uncharacteristically hard at his soaked surprised face, only to feel his swift revenge as he dumped her in a snow drift.

“Dimitri!” shrieked Byleth, freezing and laughing harder than she had in her entire life.

“Wow, Professor,” smirked Sylvain, reaching down to help her up. “I don’t know that I have ever seen you laugh.”

“Oh, she’s laughed _at_ you before,” mocked Ingrid.

“Hey, there!” Byleth looked over to see Claude, and the rest of the Golden Deer, in fact – sans Lorenz and Marianne. “How about we make this a friendly House competition?

“You seem to be a few men short for a fair fight, Claude,” pointed out Dimitri.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” called Dorothea, bundled up in furs of her own with Caspar in tow. “We can even up the numbers, right, Caspar?”

“Right!” grinned the young brawler.

As far as days at Garreg Mach went, the great snowball fight of Horsebow Moon might have been Byleth’s favourite day so far. It might even have surpassed any memories of Morfis, even if she was drenched and shivering by the end of it. She was exhausted, soaked and felt lighter than she could ever remember.


	11. The Deliverance of Duscur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I do something for you, Ignatz?” asked the professor. The boy had attended a few of her practical seminars in the training yard. He was gentle but determined to succeed as a knight. She had seen him training with Ingrid and Ashe, trying to better his martial skill.
> 
> “Ah, I had been training with Ingrid when your messenger arrived, Professor. I wanted to offer my aide and ask you for a transfer into the Blue Lion House.” Byleth was surprised. She didn’t actually know whether she was allowed to take students from their assigned houses.

The snows had melted away as quick as they come, nothing but a taste of the winter to come, and as they melted classes resumed. Byleth had the class outside in the fields learning to navigate a battlefield on horseback. While perhaps not all her class was not going have the skill on horseback that Ingrid or Sylvain boasted, they were all slated to command troops on battlefields, whether by their noble status or proximity to status. They couldn’t very well run around a real battlefield on foot and still be able to catch their platoons’ eyes.

She had stayed to help Ingrid stable the horses after one of these sessions, sending the girl in as the skies darkened and finished up cleaning the horses herself. Mutt gave her hands a nuzzle goodbye and Byleth smiled to herself, reeking of horse as she walked up through the reception hall.

Dedue stood alone in the entrance hall, seemingly lost in thought. He didn’t even notice his professor approach, a rare enough occurrence with the Duscur man that Byleth was concerned.

“Has something happened, Dedue?” The man started, blinking down at her in surprise. Now her teeth were really set on edge.

“Oh–it's you, Professor. My apologies, my thoughts were else. Since you are here, I have a favour-“

Whatever favour her student had been about to request was cut short as Dimitri walked toward them with long purposeful strides. The blond’s face was set in a determined, stony mask and he drew all Dedue’s attention.

“Your Highness. You've returned.” The man fidgeted in place and Byleth glanced sidelong at him for a moment.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Dedue. I'm glad you're here as well, Professor,” added the prince with a grim nod. “Dedue is already aware, but you should know there's been an uprising in the Duscur region, in the western part of the Kingdom.”

“An uprising in Duscur?” This was why the man was so uncharacteristically unaware of his surroundings. “Why?”

“Dedue... Would you like me to explain?” offered Dimitri, his voice softening as he addressed his friend. The tall man shook his head grimly

“No. It should be me.” He turned those mossy eyes to her his normally hard expression softened by an old wound. “You know that I am from Duscur. The land was burned to ashes by the army of Faerghus. All of the people were slaughtered. This was our punishment for the crime of regicide,” added her student, closing his eyes momentarily against an unseen memory. Beside him Dimitri, looked down with a sigh as if he felt responsible for his friend’s pain.

“The barren expanse that was once Duscur is now controlled by a Kingdom noble, but Duscur survivors, such as me, still exist outside the region,” continued Dedue after a moment. “This uprising is most likely the work of such survivors, seeking to reclaim their homeland.”

“A request for aid was sent from Viscount Kleiman to the Kingdom capital and the church. He is the one who rules over that region at present,” added Dimitri for her benefit. His eyes rose to meet hers for a moment. “For now, the lords surrounding the Duscur region have sent their armies to help suppress the uprising. However...”

“Is there a problem? Do they not have enough men?” asked Byleth, not sure what it is her students were trying to ask her without asking her.

“They have sufficient troops, and strong ones at that.” At Byleth’s uncompromising stare the young prince sighed. “My worry is that there will be more unwarranted death. There have always been many in the Kingdom's army who believe the people of Duscur our foes and hate them because of what happened four years ago. “

“If the Kingdom's army and the rebel forces of Duscur collide, there is no doubt that the rebel forces will be annihilated. I'm afraid...that's the best-case scenario. It could also turn into complete and bloody chaos for both sides.” Dedue sighed at his prince’s words. “Which brings me to my news. I have just now received the permission I requested from the church.”

“Permission for what exactly?” asked Byleth. She was sceptical that the Archbishop would give Dimitri permission to rescue infidels and rebels.

“I asked the church to deploy our class to help handle the situation. I may not have told her the true reason for this request,” added the boy, looking away from his professor uncomfortably.

“So, we may go?” asked Dedue, but Dimitri shook his head.

“The only one who can truly make the decision as to whether we go is our professor.”

“I will gather the class,” assented Byleth and Dedue smiled at her grateful.

“You have my most sincere gratitude.” Byleth sent messengers for the rest of the Lions, Dimitri and Dedue departing to pick up their equipment. The sooner they left the better their chances of reaching the rebels before the Kingdom forces. Byleth looked up when the door to her classroom opened, expecting one of her Lions and was surprised to see the quiet young painter from the Golden Deer House standing before her; Ignatz.

“Can I do something for you, Ignatz?” asked the professor. The boy had attended a few of her practical seminars in the training yard. He was gentle but determined to succeed as a knight. She had seen him training with Ingrid and Ashe, trying to better his martial skill.

“Ah, I had been training with Ingrid when your messenger arrived, Professor. I wanted to offer my aide and ask you for a transfer into the Blue Lion House.” Byleth was surprised. She didn’t actually know whether she was allowed to take students from their assigned houses.

“Can you do that?”

“I asked Professor Hanneman and he agreed that your House aligned with my goal to become a knight more so than Golden Deer. He has filled in and signed the transfer forms,” he offered, providing her with the paperwork.

“And you truly want this?”

“You are choosing to help one of your students save what’s left of their people, even though these rebels are in the wrong and the church would not support such aid. I think that is more honourable than anything and I want a teacher like that.” Byleth was uncomfortable if touched by his sentiment. “I will not slow you down, I promise.”

“I don’t think that I am doing anything more than what is right for both Dedue and Dimitri, but I accept your choice. You may join the Blue Lion House and you may accompany us west.” The young man smiled at her, bowing gratefully. The uncomfortable moment was broken as the rest of her class arrived and Dimitri looked between Ignatz and Byleth confused.

“Ignatz Victor has petitioned to join the Blue Lion House. I have accepted his transfer and I expect each of you to make him feel welcome.” Dimitri nodded, holding out a hand to Ignatz. Shy, the boy took the offered and was pulled into a tight wrist clasp.

“Welcome, Ignatz. I look forward to working with a future knight of the Leicester Alliance.” The others took Dimitri’s lead and welcomed the painter among them; Ingrid and Ashe smiling warmly at the young man who had clearly become a friend in the past months.

“OK, Lions. You know the mission we have elected to take; we will travel to Duscur and aid the Kingdom in subduing this rebellion. We will not, however, be there to kill the Duscur rebels.”

“What?” demanded Ingrid, anger clear on her face. “Professor, you can’t be serious. They-“

“These men are not responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur,” interrupted Dimitri, the note of command in his voice that brokered no argument. Ingrid’s expression did not change but her mouth closed with a snap at the bark of royal command.

“We will instead try to convince these men of the futility of fighting this rebellion,” continued Byleth evenly, ignoring her student’s outburst. Ingrid’s jaw clenched at her professor’s words, but she did not argue.

Silent, her class left the monastery as night began to descend. They rode some hours in the burgeoning darkness, trying to make up as much ground as possible before Byleth finally gave the command to set up camp. Exhausted, no one spoke as they unrolled their bedrolls under the stars and Byleth took up the first watch with Ingrid who glared into the darkness.

Byleth knew she needed to be the one the break the silence, preferably before the girl did something rash on the battlefield.

“Ingrid, are you OK?” The girl continued to stare out at the darkness and didn’t answer Byleth right away. The professor let the silence stretch until her student finally answered.

“Do you know that Felix had a brother, Professor?” asked Ingrid, her voice barely above a whisper, emotion threatening to choke her words.

“Yes. He has mentioned him before.” Ingrid sighed.

“Glenn was like someone out of a story. He was kind, sweet and a better fighter than any of us. He was made a knight at only fifteen; the youngest to ever serve in the Knights of Faerghus.” For a moment the girl smiled, but her green eyes were sad. “We were betrothed, and I believed myself the luckiest girl in Faerghus. I would marry a knight who embodied everything I aspired to be, who pushed me to be better knight and supported my dream – shared it even. He died protecting Dimitri in the Tragedy of Duscur.”

“I am sorry, Ingrid. He sounds like a man who would have been easy to love.”

“He was, and his memory is a hard one to live up to. I don’t blame Dimitri for his death. Glenn died for what he believed in, for his vows, but Duscur…”

“I understand.” Ingrid finally looked at her, then, surprised.

“You do? I’m sorry, but it’s a surprise to hear. You always seem so above such things.” Byleth smiled very slightly at the girl’s words.

“I have lost people I loved before. Perhaps not to the same extent you loved Glenn; I haven’t felt love like that. Despite the pain it surely causes now, you were lucky to know love like that,” added Byleth sincerely. “His death is not the fault of these men, however. They were not there that day. From what I understand is that anyone who was in Duscur was killed in the retaliation.”

“It doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to,” conceded the professor, looking at her student with an even gaze. “I’m not going to tell you that your feelings are right or wrong – it’s not for me to say. If you let them overtake your better judgement on the battlefield, however, you put yourself and your friends in danger.” Ingrid nodded at her words.

“I understand, Professor. I will follow Dimitri and your orders in the battle, I swear.” The girl looked away, back out into the darkness, expression soft. “Thank you for not telling me how to feel. So many others have tried to tell me how I should feel, or forgive, or move on over the last four years. Thank you for just hearing me out.”

“I am always here for you, Ingrid.” The girl smiled at that.

“It seems you are here to listen to all of our problems. Who listens to yours?” _Ha! Of course, I am your greatest confidant_ , laughed Sothis in her head, and Byleth shook her head of the voice.

“I have my father,” answered Byleth, much to Sothis’ chagrin. Eventually they went to sleep, rousing Ashe and Mercedes to take the next watch and Byleth closed her eyes for what felt like only a moment before Dimitri was waking her for a hard day’s ride.

It took another two and a half days of hard riding before they finally reached Duscur in the northwest. Byleth sent Ashe and Ignatz ahead with Felix to scout the Kingdom and rebel positions. While they waited for the report Byleth and Dimitri puzzled over a map of the region the prince had requisitioned from the monastery library.

“We need to locate their leader quickly,” pointed out Dimitri, Dedue at his side, studying the map, but not venturing any opinion.

“I agree, but I’ve never fought a Duscurman before,” added Byleth. “Do their leaders fight in the vanguard, hang back, hide? We’ll know better what’s in store for us when Ashe, Ignatz and Felix return.”

“A general will hide somewhere safe enough from the Kingdom forces, but with a clear line of sight to his men. It will not be far.” Byleth glanced at Dedue and nodded. She had fought against guerrillas before, but how was she going to fight them and not kill them? Would Dedue be able to sway their leader? Or would they need to kill him in order to force the rest to retreat?

“Professor.” Byleth’s eyes snapped up as Felix’s voice broke through her thoughts. “The Kingdom vanguard has already arrived.”

“Just as we'd feared, they far outclass the Duscur forces,” added Ashe with a sympathetic glance at Dedue. “We cannot stand by and allow another massacre. But we cannot obstruct the Faerghus army, either.”

“Our best hope is to force the troops of Duscur to withdraw before the Kingdom soldiers get to them,” concluded Dedue and the three scouts nodded.

“If the vanguard is already here, the main body of the Kingdom's army is bound to arrive soon. Until then, let's aim to quell this uprising ourselves. Once the main force arrives, we'll be out of options. We must move fast,” added Dimitri as Ingrid, Sylvain and the mages joined them.

“Dimitri, Felix and Mercedes.” The three turned to Byleth expectantly at the sound of their names. “Move to this north-eastern pocket of soldiers. I want you to turn their attention from the Kingdom vanguard – Dimitri will surely catch their eye. Try to disarm not kill,” she added with a pointed look toward Felix. The man grunted at her in some form of acknowledgement and marched out with his prince and their primary healer.

“Ingrid, Sylvain; I want you to flank this south-western position before we move in. If this General favours guerrilla warfare there is a solid copse of trees here that should grant cover and allow him to see both fronts of his rebels. You will hold back until you see Annette’s signal. Do I make myself clear?” Her lancers nodded, albeit stiffly in Ingrid’s case.

“Dedue, we are going to try for dialogue first, but if you are in any danger, I will kill their leader myself,” added Byleth and the man’s lips twitched almost into a smile. “Let’s go.”

She and Dedue walked in front of Ashe, Ignatz and Annette as the lancers disappeared into the underbrush. Byleth’s blue eyes scanned their surroundings as they moved carefully through the trees. Far off to the north she could hear the Kingdom soldiers fighting some of the Duscur guerrillas.

Only the slightest rustle to her left alerted Byleth to the attack and she raised her sword instinctively, parrying the axe that had been meant for her head. A flash of fire and the man screamed, set alight by Annette’s spell. He ran into the forest and Byleth shouted for her students to move as the leaves started to catch alight.

Dedue barrelled into some archers, taking them out with heavily armoured shoulder. “Get out of here!” he shouted at them, lifting his axe to block an arrow from a man whose hands were trembling on his bow. He snapped the bow in two with his blade and stared hard at the archer.

“Go now if you value your life.”

“But aren't you with Faerghus?” Dedue did not respond and the man just backed away from the tall man. “In any case... Thank you.” With that the archer was gone and Byleth tapped her student’s pauldron as she moved past him. They had to move before the fire spread from the forest.

The next pack they encountered were harder to convince. Dedue set his mouth into a hard line as he was forced to cut down his own men before the rest saw sense.

“There’s a fire to the north, go east. There are no Kingdom or Church soldiers that way,” ordered Byleth.

“You're not going to kill us?” asked one unarmed man, no older than the red-haired mage who’d disarmed him.

“Well, I won't wait here to find out,” countered one of his compatriots. “I'm leaving!”

Byleth turned her eyes back to Dedue, staring at the blood on his blade, face unreadable. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save more.”

“It is regrettable, but nothing that can be done about it now.” He continued on, his expression as emotionless as her own notorious façade. Byleth merely nodded, pushing down her concern and following her student with her mage and archers at her back. Annette and Ashe set their own expressions, determined to see this through to the end, and Ignatz looked wide eyed with shock, but he kept a steady hold on his bow.

“You...are a man of Duscur.” The voice drew Dedue’s attention to the copse of trees they had guessed the leader to have been hiding within. Byleth could see the heavily armoured honour guard the general had taken for himself. He looked much like her student; tall, broad shouldered, but his face was scarred from battles long ago fought. The thing she noticed most was the decadent pair of earrings that pierced just the left earlobe.

“How can you make friends with our hated foes? Is it possible that you've lost your Duscur spirit?” growled the general and Dedue stepped in front of Byleth.

“Are you finished?” The man ran for Dedue then, face contorted with rage. As he slammed into the stalwart young man his guards surrounded their party. Byleth lunged to parry a blow meant for Ignatz, shouted for the small teenager to get behind her. Ashe had his own axe out, as did Annette, but they were going to be overwhelmed.

“Annette!” Byleth didn’t have time to look to see if the girl heard her, dodging a spear thrown at her throat. She snapped the Sword of Creator through the men in front of her, ears deaf to their screams as the glowing blade whipped through legs and torsos.

She only caught glimpses. An arrow sliding between plate at a man’s throat as he choked on his own blood. The spray of blood as her sword sliced clean through a man’s thigh. A lance driven from behind a man with bright blue eyes, the blood dripped off the blade for just a moment before it was pulled back through his body.

“Yield!” shouted a voice, commanding even as its bearer panted in the dirty, his armour shattered at the shoulder. Byleth held her ground as the survivors looked amongst themselves, wary. “I said yield, damn it!” They threw their weapons in the dirt. Byleth looked to Dedue and at the man’s nod she sheathed her Relic and ordered her students to do the same.

“You need to leave before the Kingdom troops arrive,” said Dedue, looking down at the injured Duscurman. The older man blinked up at Dedue in surprise as Annette stepped past him, her hands glowing with white magic after healing Ingrid who had been sideswiped by a Duscur axe.

“I’m going to heal your arm, now, sir,” explained Annette, her voice quivering in apprehension. He watched her as she ran glowing hands over his broken shoulder.

“Why save us?” asked the general finally as the magic began to work on his arm.

“I will not abide the needless death of my own people,” answered Dedue and Byleth looked over to see Dimitri moving toward them, noticeable in that bright blue cape of his.

“You must know that as long as there is breath in me, I will fight,” spat the rebel.

“I share the same sentiment.”

“You?” scoffed the general and Byleth was tempted to punch the man, but she held herself in check. She had given Dedue her word she would not step in unless his life was in danger. “Who sold his soul for Faerghus?”

“His Highness has promised the people of Duscur a home. His will be a kingdom that is proud to harbor the blood of both Faerghus and Duscur,” ended Dedue and Byleth ran her eyes over her three approaching students to check for any injuries. Thankfully, they had returned to unharmed.

 _You’re very concerned about these children._ Byleth steadfastly ignored the smiling voice in her head and accepted Dimitri’s wrist clasp. The Duscurmen gasped at the sight of the prince in his recognisable Faerghus blue.

“The Kingdom army has retreated to the fortress. There should be no further danger,” reported Dimitri to Byleth and she nodded. She was glad her students would not need to trade blows with soldiers of their own homeland.

“Prince of Faerghus! You monster!” spat the general and Dedue’s eyes narrowed at the man he had spared.

“Can you still run?” asked Dimitri, ignoring the insult. “I suggest you do so now. Your people are waiting for you on the other side. Remain hidden from the Kingdom army.” The man didn’t say anything, looking at Dimitri as if he were a monster out of a childhood fable.

“May our paths cross again,” added Dedue in farewell as the men began to leave. The general looked the younger up and down before he turned away to follow his retreating men.

“I certainly hope not. But remember this one thing. The people of Duscur never forget their grudges. Nor do they fail to honour favours,” he added, barely above a whisper. With that the man followed his rebels in their retreat from the Kingdom fortress.

Dedue turned to Byleth and Dimitri and bowed solemnly. “Thank you, Your Highness, Professor, for accommodating my selfish request.”

“Think nothing of it,” waved off the prince. “This was something I wished for, as well.”

“Let’s get everyone home,” answered Byleth. She and Dimitri led their class out of Duscur in quiet, with Dedue right behind them like a shadow. Sylvain helped Ingrid mount her horse and kept a watchful eye on the injured lancer as he rode behind her with Felix. Mercedes and Annette were quiet behind the two men with Ashe and Ignatz bringing up their rear-guard.

“Does your injury still pain you?” asked Dedue of Ingrid when they stopped to make camp on the boarder to Faerghus. The blonde stiffened at his presence and she refused to turn her eyes to the man.

“No.”

“Good.” Dedue made to move away but Ingrid did turn to him, her face angry as she glared at the Duscurman.

“I’d have cut my way through. Alone. Without your assistance.” Byleth turned to the conversation, ready to intervene but a hand on her arm stopped her. She looked up to see Sylvain’s brown eyes watching the exchange and he glanced down at her.

“My apologies.” His words only seemed to anger Ingrid further.

“Your apologies are empty,” spat the girl and she stormed off into the forest.

“I’ll go after her, Professor,” murmured Sylvain, wiping his hands on his breeches before he followed his friend into the woodland. Byleth watched as Ashe invited Dedue to sit with him and Ignatz and the larger man accepted the invitation without another visible thought about the conversation.

“Ingrid will be fine in time,” grumbled Felix beside her and Byleth turned to the swordsman leaning against the trees behind her.

“I hope you are right. Perhaps, I should not have brought her on a mission to protect Duscurmen,” wondered Byleth as she unpacked her maintenance kit.

“Probably not,” agreed the cold swordsman and Byleth ran a cleaning cloth over the dried blood on her sword. Working with mercenaries was far easier than trying to guide children into knighthood. She was hardly qualified on rules of knighthood, or to handle the emotional outbursts of teenagers.

“Why did you agree to save the rebels? I doubt that was the Church’s purpose of sending us north,” added Felix as he took a seat beside her and began cleaning his own sword. Byleth was silent for a moment considering her answer as she pulled apart the chainlike links of the Sword of the Creator to clean between them.

“I agreed because Dedue asked. He doesn’t strike me as man who asks for much,” answered Byleth, eyes remaining on her blade. “As for the Church; they gave me no specific orders to kill the rebels. I don’t kill if it’s not required; mercenary or not. These were men who have lost everything. Losing their lives wouldn’t help anyone.”

“And when they rise up again?” pushed Felix and this time Byleth looked up with an even dark blue stare.

“A question for your future king,” responded Byleth. “I doubt I will still be in Fόdlan once you graduate.” Felix looked surprised at that and Byleth returned to her cleaning.

“Where will you go? Home?” Byleth shook her head.

“No. Work dried up in Morfis. Maybe I will go to Dagda or Brigid or even east to Almyra. It would be nice to live somewhere warm again,” she added pulling tight the cloak she still hadn’t returned to her prickliest student. “I will return your cloak before winter truly hits; I swear it.”

“Just return it before you leave Fόdlan.” With that Felix left her for his own bedroll, blade cleaned and oiled, and Byleth returned to her cleaning. The damned Sword of the Creator was impractically made by someone who had never had to clean a blade before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and questions and kudos. I do read them all, however my day job is in healthcare so I am insanely busy and I will try and respond to you all in time.
> 
> Stay safe and healthy out there.


	12. Dark Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someone knows where Flayn is.”
> 
> Jeralt finally looked at her, concern in his eyes again. Byleth looked away at the empathy in her father’s eyes as he touched her shoulder gently. “This isn’t the same as the Priyanka incident, By.” She glared at him.

Byleth stood in the statue room, which was quickly becoming her most hated room in the entire monastery and tried not to scowl at Rhea.

“Professor, you have shown exceptional skill in leading your students. I am forever grateful for the safe return of the Hero's Relic, and the suppression of those rebels. Just as I expected, you have mastered the Sword of the Creator. Now then, I shall tell you about your mission for the coming month...” The doors burst open and Seteth of all people ran into the chamber. His hair was in disarray for once and he looked wild and frightened.

“Rhe– Archbishop!”

“Seteth, what troubles you?” The Archbishop for once sounded genuinely concerned as Byleth watched the pair.

“Flayn is missing! I cannot find her anywhere!” Seteth turned to Byleth, green eyes pleading. “Professor, have you seen Flayn recently?”

“I have not.”

“I have searched every corner I can think of! I could not find her anywhere.” The man seemed to break down then and he crumbled to the ground. A gut rending sob escaped him. “Oh no... No, no! What am I to do?!”

“Calm yourself, Seteth. Professor, we shall continue our discussion another time,” dismissed Rhea and this time Byleth did glare at her. Instead of leaving she crouched down, eye level with Seteth as he cried.

“I will find her, Seteth. I promise you that.” Then, she left without a word to the Archbishop. Seteth was a pain in the ass, but his sweet little sister – no, Byleth would find the girl, and she knew the Blue Lions would jump to help.

She sent messengers to fetch her students while she waited in the Blue Lions classroom. Byleth rolled out a map of the monastery and wondered what secrets Garreg Mach might be hiding. Someone knew where the little green haired girl was.

“Professor.” Byleth looked up at Dimitri’s voice, to see him rush in with Ingrid at his side. They looked flushed from sparring. “I got your message. Flayn has disappeared? Seteth must be beside himself.” Sylvain wasn’t far behind him.

“Maybe she eloped,” suggested the redhead. He didn’t even see Ingrid’s palm coming for him and the slap absolutely echoed about the classroom.

“Holy shit, Ingrid,” exclaimed Sylvain, rocked back by the force of the blow.

“Even you must agree that now isn't the time for jokes!” shouted Ingrid, face a mask of rage.

“OK, I’m sorry.” He rubbed his jaw, already bright red like his hair. Annette careened into the classroom, almost knocking into Dimitri with Felix hot on her heels.

“Professor! We just heard,” exclaimed the mage. “I hope Flayn is OK. I've heard rumours about some reaper running around the town.”

“Sounds intriguing,” remarked Felix, thoughtfully. “I hope to cross blades with him.” Ingrid looked ready for another slap, but Dimitri intercepted her hand this time, holding his fellow lancer back.

“Felix! Please consider how Seteth must be feeling right now.”

“Ingrid, you must calm yourself,” soothed the prince, turning a pleading look to Byleth. “In any case, we must start our search at once. Every moment matters. On your order, Professor, let's try to collect as much information as we can.”

Ignatz was the next through the door, looking around the classroom. Byleth could tell he still felt a little out of step with the Blue Lions nobles other than Ingrid. “I've only ever spoken to Flayn a handful of times. She always seemed so naive about the ways of the world.”

“We’ll find her, Ignatz. The Professor and His Highness won’t let anything happen to her,” smiled Annette encouragingly. The boy smiled at her and nodded.

“We will wait for the others to join us, but I have a map here, please help me mark off any places you think she may be hidden,” offered Byleth, hoping to keep the nervous energy of her students contained until the others turned up. Ashe, Dedue and Mercedes joined them in a few minutes, and they began brainstorming possible locations for the young Flayn. Hilda knocked timidly at their classroom door.

“Professor? I’m sorry, I heard what has happened and I want to help,” offered the pink haired noble. “Flayn has always been very kind to me and I can’t bear the thought that something might have happened to her. Seteth is much older than Flayn. He's always looking out for her. He must be worried sick. If I were to go missing, I can't imagine what that would do to my brother. I want to join the Blue Lion House and I want to help you find her.”

“Are you sure?” Byleth was shocked. She had never expected Hilda to care so much about Seteth’s younger sister, or about anyone for that matter. That she would leave the house filled with all her friends…Byleth had not seen that one coming at all.

“I am certain,” nodded Hilda. “Professor Hanneman has already signed the release forms for me.” She pulled out a crumpled transfer form from her pockets. Ignatz turned to look at the professor with hope and while she wasn’t completely sold on having Hilda in her class, the girl’s determination in this instance and the fact it would make the transition easier on her bespectacled archer, Byleth nodded.

“OK, then. Thank you, Hilda. Welcome to the Blue Lion House.” The spent the better part of the afternoon divvying up places to patrol, just like they had during the Blue Moon. “You, Annette, Ashe and Mercedes should go to town, and ask around if anyone has seen Flayn.” The girls left with their orders.

“Dimitri, I want you, Ingrid and Sylvain to take the southern half of Garreg Mach from the dining hall to the gate.” The three lancers nodded and left the classroom. “Dedue, Felix and Ignatz; I’ll leave the northern half of the monastery to you.”

“What about you, Professor?” asked Ashe. “I can patrol with you. We shouldn’t go off on our own.”

“I’m going to talk to my father. It would be best to know what the knights do.” It took Byleth some time to track her father in the armoury down the hall from his office, taking stock of repairs. The sun had long settled down for the night and Felix’s cloak came in handy on these colder Garreg Mach nights.

“Figured you’d come looking for me,” remarked Jeralt, not looking up from his notes. “The knights have been searching for Flayn non-stop since the news broke.”

“What’s this rumour about a Death Knight?” Jeralt just shook his head.

“There are always rumours of some spectre of death stalking the dark when disappearances like this one happened. I wouldn’t put much stock in such nonsense.”

“Someone knows where Flayn is.”

Jeralt finally looked at her, concern in his eyes again. Byleth looked away at the empathy in her father’s eyes as he touched her shoulder gently. “This isn’t the same as the Priyanka incident, By.” She glared at him.

“I know that, father.” Priyanka had been one of the few friends her own age Byleth had made in Morfis. She had been tortured and murdered ten years ago now by a butcher who her father explained had an illness of the mind. Priya had been his thirteenth victim, but his last.

“Good. You should get some rest.”

She left him in the armoury, teeth grating, and ran into Dedue in the hallway. The dour man nodded solemnly in acknowledgement.

“The only place I've yet to check is the library,” greeted Dedue sombrely.

“I’ll come with you.”

“As you wish,” nodded Dedue. They walked in silence to the library and Byleth forcibly put away all thoughts of Priya. She wasn’t going to let Flayn suffer a similar fate. As they turned into the library, Byleth noticed a faint glow from candlelight.

“Candlelight... And who is that?” wondered Dedue, walking in ahead of her. She could make out a figure hunched over the desk. The figure seemed to notice them and closed the book they were reading, turning to them. In the light she realised it was Dimitri.

“Professor. Dedue. What are you up to at this hour?” asked the prince as he walked toward them, rubbing at his eyes. “I was just doing some research. But I'm just about finished. I didn't realize how late it had gotten. We'd better head back to our quarters, Dedue. Until tomorrow, Professor.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” nodded Dedue, following his prince out of the library. Byleth watched them go and walked over to where he had left his candle burning. He’d also left quite a few books out

 _A most unusual man! Whatever could he have been looking for so late at night?_ Asked Sothis, appearing by her side and bending over to look at the titles in the pile. _One of these books doesn’t fit. They’re all legends and stories to do with Garreg Mach, except this one_.

Byleth pulled the offending volume from under the others and opened it to reveal a ledger of sorts.

 _It seems to be a record of donations from nobility._ One of the pages had the corner turned down, like a marker of sorts. _Arundel...that's not a name I know. But look at that! This Arundel gave quite a sum each year. That is, until the year 1174. He must have died or fallen to financial woe. Hmm... I can't imagine what this has to do with Flayn._

Losing interest Sothis wandered away to skim over the titles on the shelf. Byleth closed the ledger, putting it back where she had found it. Why was her student interested in donations to the Church right now?

That night Byleth had nightmares for the first time in over seven years. She saw Priya ahead of her, calling to her, but her legs were trapped in thick mud. Byleth moved toward her, but too slow, far too slow for the knife that cut a path across Priya’s neck. She found no rest that night and woke as tired as if she hadn’t slept at all.

Byleth rose, the sun barely cresting the mountains as she dressed. She found Dimitri in the Blue Lion’s classroom, dark circles under his eyes. He jumped when Byleth placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Dimitri, you need to get some sleep.” The boy shook his head.

“We still don't know where Flayn is,” countered the prince, rubbing at his tired eyes. “We can't give up; not until she's found.” Byleth wanted to tell hm that robbing himself of sleep wasn’t getting them any closer to the answer, but Ingrid ran into the room, interrupting any attempt at a retort.

“Professor! Your Highness!” Ingrid paused, catching her breath, her braid in disarray. “I just heard a scream! In Professor Jeritza's quarters!”

“Ingrid, fetch the rest of the class. We will meet you at Jeritza’s quarters,” ordered Dimitri. She glanced at Byleth for confirmation and at the professor’s nod she took off for the dormitory. Dimitri strode off toward the knights’ hall and Byleth jogged to catch up with his long strides.

“We need to wait for the rest of the class, Dimitri.”

“Of course, Professor,” answered the prince, jaw tightening against her restraint. He hummed with bound energy as they waited outside the hall and Byleth felt concern knot into her stomach as she watched his impatient pacing. She was relieved that her students arrived quickly, fully armed and prepared for a fight.

Ashe picked the lock to the instructor’s quarters and Byleth opened the door, sword at the ready. The room was a mess, books and gear strewn across the quarters as if a fight had taken place here. On the floor Byleth could see a woman laying face down in a small growing pool of blood.

“Isn't that... Professor Manuela!” exclaimed Dimitri, rushing over to the unconscious, injured woman. Byleth sheathed her relic and waved in Mercedes who rushed over to the other healer, hands aglow.

“Professor Manuela!” called Annette, rushing to kneel beside her friend and helping her turn Manuela on her back. She slapped the woman lightly on the cheek as if to rouse her from a deep slumber. “Please wake up!”

“Is she...dead?” asked Byleth quietly and Mercedes shook her head.

“No, I believe she's just unconscious. But this wound requires immediate attention from a better trained healer than me, Professor,” answered the gentle healer.

“Look! Do you see Professor Manuela's hand? It's like she's pointing at something...” said Hilda. Byleth looked up at a bookcase, and Felix followed her gaze to the single book still set in place in the disarray. The swordsman pulled at the book and triggered some hidden mechanism to open a door behind the case.

“What is the meaning of-“ Byleth turned at Hanneman’s voice as the older professor’s eyes widened at the scene before him. “What happened here? We must take her to the infirmary immediately. You! Don't just stand there! Help me carry her,” ordered the scholar of Dimitri. Dimitri nodded and picked Manuela up as if she weighed no more than a child.

“I'll return shortly, Professor,” assured Dimitri and she nodded at his departure with Hanneman. Annette was at her side, worrying her bottom lip as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her uniform. She looked at her professor, brows furrowed.

“Do you think this is related to Flayn's disappearance?”

“What should we do, Professor?” asked Dedue, standing beside Felix at the opening in the wall.

“We are going in.” Dedue nodded and her students readied themselves as Byleth accepted a hastily made torch from Annette.

“It looks dark...uh...dark in there,” stammered the girl nervously and Mercedes put a sympathetic hand on her young friend’s shoulder.

“I know you’re afraid of dark places, Annie, but the professor and I will protect you,” promised the healer and she received a small smile of thanks from the mage. Byleth nodded and took the first steps down the stone staircase with Felix and Dedue at her back. Hilda stepped down next, holding a torch passed to her by Annette with Sylvain and Ingrid behind her, lances at the ready. The mages followed next as Ashe and Ignatz brought up the rear.

It was dark and damp and deathly silent as Byleth led her students through the rat warren of tunnels beneath the monastery. Her senses were on high alert, twitching at every scurrying rat in a dark corner. Her hand started to ache with how hard she gripped her torch and Byleth took a deep breath to calm herself, relaxing her muscles. If she was tense and a fight broke out, she was dead.

“It's way too creepy down here,” breathed Hilda as they rounded the corner into a wide-open cavern. The darkness stretched before them and Annette stood close to the pink haired girl nervously. Annette yelped as she jumped back into Ashe behind her.

“I see someone!” Byleth and Hilda stepped forward with their torches.

“Is it Flayn?” asked Byleth quietly as she held her torch forward. The light danced off green hair and she felt relief flood through her body as Ingrid ran over to the unconscious girl. Beside her lay another, red haired and face down on the stone.

“Who is this other person?” asked Ingrid as Mercedes joined her, hands glowing as she checked the girls for injuries.

“Someone is coming,” hissed Ignatz and Byleth turned at his words. The cavern exploded into light and she was momentarily blinded as torches lit up the entire cavern - no, a chamber, Byleth could see now. Before her towered a figure in black armour and a horned helmet that covered his face with a mask meant to strike fear. She narrowed her cobalt eyes at the man.

“You.” She felt Felix step up beside her, Ingrid on her other side. The Dark Knight didn’t look at the professor, instead he looked pass the defenders to Mercedes, hands aglow over the unconscious girls.

He raised his scythe and mages appeared, surrounding Byleth’s small class, with a flash of crimson light. “Kill them all.”

Byleth readied herself, calculating how many steps it would take to get to the knight and slice through him with the Relic in her hand. Perhaps the mages would retreat with the death of their leader. She had to protect her students who were outnumbered even as they stood defiant against these forces.

Byleth didn’t even really see the black armour as she ran toward the man in blind rush. She saw the butcher from Morfis. Hazel eyes, handsome, smiling at her covered in her friend’s blood. She hadn’t saved Priya, she hadn’t gotten justice that day. She had been weak.

Byleth was no longer weak.

She lunged at the man who danced under the Sword of the Creator with more grace than he had any right to bear in all that plate. The rest of the battle faded from vision as she swung at the man again, not even noticing when his scythe cut through her side. She was going to kill him, regardless of the cost.

“Halt!” commanded a voice, interrupting the knight at the same time Sothis appeared in front of Byleth and screamed; _Stop this at once!_

Byleth stopped in surprise. Sothis had never appeared to her in battle before, the small girl enraged at her. Looking pass the green haired girl Byleth saw a figure in red and gold armour beside the knight, face covered with a white death mask. “I command you to leave.”

At the man’s words the mages disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived, and the Death Knight growled. “You will have more opportunities to play,” added the red and gold man. The Death Knight teleported away and the man in the white mask turned to Byleth.

“We will cross paths again,” promised the man before he, too, disappeared into nothingness.

“Get back here,” demanded Byleth, calling out to nothing, but Sothis pushed her back. _Stop acting like a child! We didn’t come here for revenge; we came here for Flayn!_

Byleth looked behind her at the worried expressions on her student’s faces and took a deep breath to calm herself. She sheathed her sword and walked back to her students, feeling her rage melt away into shame at her behaviour. She had put them in very real danger.

“Where did they go?” asked Ingrid, confused as she put her lance up, looking around the fully lit and now empty chamber.

“It doesn't matter,” snapped Felix, sword already sheathed as he picked up Flayn. “We need to get these two out of here.” Sylvain nodded in agreement, picking up the other girl.

“Bring them up,” ordered Byleth and the two young men carried the girls through the dark tunnels and up to the weapons instructor’s chambers. They placed the girls gently on the bed Dedue cleared of debris and Mercedes looked over them, resting her hand against their foreheads.

“Thank goodness. Those girls are pale as ghosts, but at least they're alive-“ Her words were cut off as Dimitri came through the door, looking around at the class and spotting Flayn on the bed.

“You found Flayn?” The prince sighed with relief and looked up at the professor. “Was anyone hurt?” Byleth shook her head, jaw still clenching with her failure to get the knight.

“She was unconscious at the end of that secret passage. We found the culprit too...but…” Annette looked over at the professor.

“He got away,” finished Byleth, through gritted teeth.

“I'm just grateful that everyone is safe. That's what matters most. I'd like to hear what transpired, but first we need to get these ladies to the infirmary,” smiled Dimitri. Dedue nodded picking up the redhaired girl as Dimitri bundled up Flayn in his arms.

“I will go with them, Professor,” bowed Mercedes, following the young men to the infirmary. Byleth turned to her students, forcing herself to meet their eyes.

“Go and clean yourselves up. You all fought bravely, today. Thank you.” Byleth stayed behind as her students filtered out, but she didn’t miss the look Hilda shot at her as she paused in the doorway.

“You really worried me, Professor,” said the girl quietly. “If you…If you ever need to talk, I hope you know I will take your secrets to the grave,” added Hilda. Byleth looked up at the girl in surprise for the second time in two days. The pink haired slacker was more perceptive than Byleth had ever given her credit for.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Thank you, for your offer.” The girl nodded and left, Byleth sitting on the edge of Jeritza’s bed with a sigh. Tired she put her face in her hands and blocked out the world for a moment, trying not to even think of Priya’s face, dark eyes and long thick black hair. She felt cool fingers on her wrists, prying her hands apart and she was met with tender emerald eyes.

Sothis wrapped Byleth in a hug that made no sense to feel, but that she accepted. She ran her fingers calmingly through Byleth’s hair, as if soothing a child as she whispered; _I thought you were going to kill yourself down there._

“Maybe I was,” answered Byleth as Sothis pulled away from her. Byleth stood from the bed and looked down at the shorter girl. “I’m sorry for losing control.”

Sothis smiled at her. _Happens to the best of us. But you have to keep your head if you’re going to protect these children_.

“I know. Thank you for stopping me.” Byleth left the knights’ hall. She stopped off at her room before heading toward the baths. There was a lot about this day she needed to wash off.

“Professor.” Byleth looked up to see Edelgard regarding her with that evaluating look. The princess hadn’t sought her out once in the months since she had arrived at Garreg Mach and taken over the Blue Lions. “You seem troubled.”

“I am fine, Edelgard. Thank you for your concern.”

“I heard that you found Flayn. I am glad she is safe.” The white-haired girl left and Byleth walked away, wondering if that was really all the princess had wanted to say. She shook her head and continued to the baths where she found Petra and Dorothea. Her Blue Lions had already cleaned up, and hopefully gone to dinner.

“Hi, Professor,” smiled Dorothea warmly as Byleth knelt at the water with a bowl and cloth to clean the blood from the shallow cut the Death Knight had managed to place across her abdomen. “We heard what happened from Annette.”

“You have a bleeding,” said Petra. Byleth nodded as she wiped the drying blood from her body.

“It’s nothing serious, Petra. The blood is already clotting, so I will be fine.”

“You should be getting healing,” added the Brigidite, concerned.

“It is not necessary.” Dorothea still offered to heal the wound, but Byleth refused. “I will heal on my own. The scar will be a reminder not to make the same mistake again.”

“If you say so, Professor,” conceded the singer. “We will leave you to clean up.” Byleth was left alone in the bath house as the girls departed and she continued to wash the blood from her body, wringing out the dirtied cloth into the bowl so as not to foul the communal bath water.

Her body was covered in many such reminders. They might be considered unsightly to her students, particularly the nobles, but to Byleth they told the stories of how he had survived multiple dumb mistakes and silent promises not to make them again. This one joined the scar left by Sylvain’s brother on her shoulder, and the cut up her arm from Priya’s butcher, among others. She would not abandon her students in a fight again.

Cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes, Byleth left the bath house only to come face to face with Seteth. The man looked exhausted, but relieved.

“Please, Professor; walk with me.” Byleth nodded and followed the man as they walked toward the faculty building, the sun setting behind them.

“Allow me to express my eternal gratitude,” started Seteth as they passed the classrooms. He didn’t look directly at her, as if he was as embarrassed thanking her as Byleth was hearing it. “Flayn is safe and sound, and I have you to thank for that. Mere words could never express how thankful I am. I...I am indebted to you.”

“I'm just happy she's safe,” managed Byleth as he held open the door for her and gestured for her to head up the stairs.

“Yes, indeed. I...I, too, am overjoyed.” They walked in silence up the stairs before stopping at the door to his office. Byleth turned now to look up at the stern man, wanting to ask him the question that had been burning in the back of her mind since the disappearance had come to light.

“Why was Flayn taken to begin with?” The man sighed and opened his office door, beckoning Byleth in. He lit some candles and sat down wearily at his desk.

“I believe the enemy may have been after Flayn's blood.” Byleth watched him with interest as Seteth looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them over and over. “The blood that flows through her veins is special. It is extremely rare...and extremely dangerous. If enemies who know the secret of Flayn's blood have appeared, our only option is to leave the monastery and go into hiding.”

“Brother, wait.” The door that must have led to the man’s bed chambers opened and Flayn stood in the doorway, still too weak to stand on her own.

“Flayn?! What are you doing? You should be resting!” exclaimed Seteth as he rushed to the girl’s side, but Flayn shook her head and waved off his aid, determined to stand on her own with the doorway’s assistance.

“I do not like the path of your thoughts. I do not wish to live in some lonely, remote location where I never get to see anyone. Not ever again,” said Flayn, her voice weak and hoarse, but determined. Byleth watched her with concern; not ever again?

“If we stay here, you may be targeted again,” argued Seteth, brows knitted in fatherly concern for his sister. “Wouldn't it be better for the two of us to live in peace?”

Flayn shook her head. “Even if we ran off to some new, secret location, there is no guarantee that they would not find us. That is why I believe it would be safest to stay in the monastery, where we are surrounded by capable knights and professors.”

“I see your point, I do,” conceded Seteth, gently. “But the risks-“ Flayn turned her green eyes to Byleth and she smiled.

“What if I were to join Professor Byleth’s class?” Both Byleth and Seteth were silent with shock. “With a professor like you nearby, I shall be safe no matter what foe should appear!”

Seteth moved back to his desk, tired and defeated. “I see. I am afraid you have a good point.” He looked at Byleth, an expression on his face that for once was not stern. He looked….ashamed – guilty?

“Professor, due to my position, I have closely scrutinized everything about you. I have also received reports about your conduct in Morfis. After all that has happened, I must admit that you are indeed...a trusted ally. So, what say you? Can I entrust you with Flayn's safety?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Flayn smiled weakly and Byleth turned her eyes on the girl. “But you need to rest, that is an order. I need you to be healthy and ready for classes in two days’ time. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal, Professor. Thank you,” beamed the girl, closing the door and returning to her bed.

“Thank you, Professor,” said Seteth.

“I will not go easy on her because she is your sister,” warned Byleth and Seteth’s lips turned upward into a small approving smile.

“I would not expect you to. Perhaps it is time she learned to defend herself, and your class has become quite capable in the months you have been here. I…apologise for resisting your appointment at first,” he added and Byleth shook her head.

“I do not blame you for your suspicion. You knew nothing about me, except that I was Jeralt daughter.” Seteth nodded and Byleth stood from her seat.

“I will leave you to look after your sister, Seteth.” She left his office, closing the door behind her. The exhaustion of the day was seeping into Byleth’s bones as she made her way to her room to find that Dedue had left her some warm food at her door. She smiled at the thoughtfulness and took it in to eat at her desk.

 _I am so glad that Flayn is safe_ , said Sothis as she took a seat on Byleth’s bed. Byleth nodded at the pointed ear girl as she unwrapped the warm bowl of stew. It smelt different to anything she had eaten so far in the dining hall.

_Yet I can't help but wonder what the story is about the other girl. She wore the uniform of the academy. But who is she?_

“I’m sure Rhea will want to talk to us in the morning. Why don’t you ask her then?” Sothis rolled her eyes but remained quiet as Byleth demolished the delicious spiced stew and crawled into bed. Thankfully, her exhaustion meant she slept without dreams, not even of Priya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter written before the world went to Hell in a hand-basket. My updates will probably be more sporadic over the next weeks/months with work ramping up, but this story is not abandoned


	13. Lance and Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The sea is vast. Boundless. On the surface, all seems still. Yet beneath that stillness, it is unfathomably deep. Within, it teems with life, yet without, one is lucky to glimpse a fleeting shadow. And yet, all one must do it cast a line to grasp hold of all that life! You cannot see it at a glance, but it is there all the same.”
> 
> The description was uncomfortably apt, and Byleth turned her cobalt eyes to the young girl beside her. Flayn saw far too much for someone so young. Some of it was surely the artlessness of youth, but it made Byleth immensely uncomfortable to be so easily unravelled by the girl.

“I have been told that Manuela and Flayn are recovering nicely, as is Monica,” smiled Rhea and Byleth just nodded at the woman’s words. Hanneman was beside her, looking tired.

“Who is Monica?” asked Byleth, keeping her tone neutral, and not looking directly at the Archbishop.

“Monica, the girl you rescued along with Flayn, is also a student at the Officers Academy. However...”

“She is a student from last year's class,” finished Hanneman. Byleth looked over at her colleague and realised he looked guilty, as if he blamed himself for what had happened. “She went missing just before she would have graduated. It never occurred to us that something might have happened to her at the monastery. We assumed she had run away. I never dreamed that we would find her. Not like this.”

“Monica has asked to re-join the Black Eagle House once she has fully recovered. Our enemies are still out there, so we must remain cautious and continue our investigation. However, we must also help the students to move on from this incident.”

“After all, the Battle of the Eagle and Lion will be held in Gronder Field later this month,” added Hanneman and Byleth blinked in surprise. Was it already Wyvern Moon? Had it really been six months already?

“Yes. The students will remember it for the rest of their lives. Please guide them so they may show us their best at the coming battle.” Byleth took her leave and found her father waiting for in the hall.

“How are you doing, By?” he asked, gesturing for her to follow him to his office.

“I’m fine,” assured Byleth, knowing her father would worry about her regardless of her answer.

“You'll be going to Gronder Field in a few weeks. You've never been there before,” added Jeralt as he looked the door behind them. “I will be honest with you, By. There is unease in the western side of the Empire, but everything east of the capital, Enbarr, is stable. Well, there was a noble rebellion a short while ago, but it didn't amount to much.”

“Will you come to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion?” asked Byleth, hoping that she could demonstrate what she had learned for her father and former captain. Jeralt smiled fondly but shook his head.

“Sorry, but I've got my own mission, and it's far from Gronder Field.” Byleth was disappointed, but not surprised.

“I'm more concerned about is finding out who among us is pulling the strings. Ever since the Rite of Rebirth, strange groups have been seen around Garreg Mach, and elsewhere too,” added her father, moving toward a map littered with notes in his horrendously illegible handwriting. Byleth peered over the map, noting his codes from when they were mercenaries for ‘what the shit’ littering the parchment. “There was also an incident where some knights investigating these suspicious strangers...turned up dead. Not that it's likely, but if something like that ever happens to me; search this room. Every corner. Behind every shelf. I'm going to leave something for you.”

“Don't say things like that,” frowned Byleth and Jeralt chuckled. The sound was relaxed that Byleth felt herself smiling with relief.

“Don't get me wrong, By. I have no intention of dying. I know it would be too much to ask you to cheer up, but can you at least drop the serious... Well, I'll be. Was that a smile just now?” Byleth shrugged, her frown returning.

“At least I don’t have to worry about you this month. The preparations are sure to keep you busy over the next few weeks,” smiled Jeralt.

“In this place, who knows,” muttered Byleth before bidding her father farewell. She had lessons to plan.

“Oh, Professor.” Byleth turned to Lysithea, the young girl regarding her with a calm expression, behind her stacked books. The girl had obviously been returning from the library.

“What can I do for you, Lysithea? Do you want a hand carrying your books?” offered Byleth, but the pale girl shook her head.

“No, I’m fine, Professor. I wanted thank you for helping me with my training.”

“Anytime,” smiled Byleth.

“Your advice is always so useful. Everyone thinks you're a wonderful teacher. You account for people's weaknesses while capitalizing on their strengths. Initially I wasn't sure you paid too much attention to your students. Clearly, I was wrong. After all, were that the case, you wouldn't be capable of providing such useful feedback.”

“I wanted to ask if I could join your class. I'll continue to learn and grow from your instruction, Professor. I just know it!” Byleth was surprised. Lysithea had really worked at her sword play during Byleth’s weekend sessions, but she was a mage first. It made more sense for her to stay in Hanneman’s class.

“Are you sure? I don’t know much about magic, Lysithea.”

“I know as much as Hanneman, maybe more, when it comes to magic, Professor. I want to be more than just a mage.” The passion with which the girl spoke was as endearing as it was surprising.

“You're quite determined.”

“You think I'm determined?” asked the girl, taking her turn to be surprised. Byleth nodded firmly.

“Yes. You're always pushing yourself. I will happily have you in the Blue Lions.”

“Professor, I... Thank you!” beamed the girl, for once looking like the young girl she truly was. “You're the only one who's ever praised me like that. I mean, people are always telling me I've got a knack for magic. If you've noticed how hard I work, then, well... It just... It makes me happy.”

“I will see you tomorrow, then.” The girl nodded, beaming from ear to ear before scuttling off with her books to study.

The next week passed with the barely contained excitement of the impending mock battle sizzling through her class. Felix took notes, Sylvain participating in tactics debates, and Lysithea joined the debate with gusto. Hilda was even taking practice seriously, partnered up with Annette; and Ashe was tutoring Ignatz in battle archery with Dimitri’s assistance as the advancing target. Flayn and Mercedes had partnered off, both discussing different healing techniques in details Byleth only half understood. Byleth watched them practice with proud quiet confidence in the Blue Lions to defeat the other two houses.

It was early in the second week that Sylvain found her studying in the courtyard with a hot pot of tea Ferdinand had made her. He quick with a smile as always, even if this one didn’t touch his eyes.

“Hey, Professor. You’re looking lovely as ever,” said the redhead as he sat down across from her. “Oh, this tea smells good. Can I have some?”

Byleth waved at him to help himself as she continued to work on the primer on magical equations, she had borrowed from Hanneman at the end of the last month, trying to make sense of the math. She was trying to get the equation required to make a long-distance spell like Thoron more accurate, but the numbers refused to dance. Lysithea and Annette were apt to go at double speed when talking about magic and she could not follow along for the life of her, hence the workbook, but Byleth was feeling even more out of her depth than usual. How could she possible help instruct her mages when she could not even get through a damned primer?

“How can you stay focused reading a book that thick...with such small print? Is some of that text upside down?” Byleth continued ignoring him as she sipped her tea, scratching over her work. _If I use the formula in this line here, the magical energy should... No, that is not right..._

“Sylvain, please be quiet,” muttered Byleth, replacing the wrong formula with another. It still did not look right. Why was this so damned hard?

“Hang on. Look at the third line. You've got the formula wrong,” said Sylvain, leaning over to point out the error. Byleth batted his arm away before she noticed the damned lancer was right

“Oh. You're right. How did you know that?” asked Byleth, turning to face him fully now. He was leaning in quite close and his eyes went comically wide at how close their faces were before he pulled back, surprise replaced by that easy smile of his as he shrugged.

“Well, I mean, it's written right there...” shrugged the young man and Byleth narrowed her eyes at him.

“Have you read this book before?”

“Nope, first time. The book is just making it way more complicated than it really is. Honestly, professor, it is breakfast. You gotta take a rest sometime. Get out in the world and have some fun.”

Byleth levelled him with a withering glare over her tea. She had to hand it to Ferdinand, it was a pretty good brew, even if the detailed explanation she received went right over her head. Black tea and orange oils was about all she had managed to pull from his weighty explanation of the brew. All Byleth needed to know was that it tasted good.

“I could never,” disagreed the professor, correcting her work on the damned accuracy improvement equation. How someone could keep this all their heads in the middle of casting was beyond her.

“Aw, come on, Professor. Let me buy you something to eat. Relax for a couple hours at least.”

“No, thank you,” refused Byleth without so much as a glance and the young man sighed.

“Ah, fine. You're missing out though.” He didn’t move away, just sitting there, fiddling with his cup and eventually Byleth just closed her primer with a snap that made him jump.

“What are you after?”

“I need to ask a favour, and I wanted a way to work up the courage to ask you…”

“Is this about a girl?” asked Byleth, and she immediately regretted it at the hurt look that passed through his eyes for just a second before it was hidden again behind his jovial mask. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t grasp the damned magic equations.

“No, for once it's not about a girl. There are thieves in my father's territory. I was wondering if you'd go with me to drive 'em off.” He looked at her like an expectant puppy; sure a six foot something puppy, but puppy nonetheless. “You remember the thieves we fought at Conand Tower, yeah?”

“Miklan’s group. Unlikely to forget that anytime soon,” answered Byleth and he laughed somewhat uncomfortably.

“Yes, well, what's left of his band of thieves is causing trouble in Gautier territory. My father has asked me to come home and put down those murderous jerks. But he's asked for me to come alone–no knights, no backup of any sort. That's crazy, right?”

“Yes, that’s crazy. You’re his only heir, right?” Sylvain nodded with a sigh. He was staring at the dark tea as unspoken thoughts flittered about his mind before he shrugged.

“The way my father is….he probably has some other motive I’ll never know. Anyway, I'm not going alone, no matter what he asks. I'm going to ask some of the others in our class to help too. But none of us have your expertise. If you'd come with us, I'd be grateful.”

“Of course,” answered Byleth without a second thought. She wasn’t about to let her student walk out on his own to deal with a band of thieves. It boggled the mind that the Margrave would.

“Great! I'll talk to the others and see who's in. Thanks, Professor!” beamed the young man, draining his cup before he left. Byleth sighed and marked her place in the primer with a feather. She would have to return to her studies at a later time. Who would have thought an Academy would be so busy?

“Oh, Professor.” Byleth had rounded a corner almost running into Flayn. She looked much better, and cheerful as ever. “Sylvain said we needed to pack for a journey north. How exciting. I have never been to Faerghus before.”

“I don’t think it’s wise for you join us,” said Byleth carefully. She knew Flayn wanted to be a part of the class in every way, but she was still recovering, and Byleth still had to answer to Seteth if something was to happen to his little sister. The girl pouted.

“And why not? I have fully recovered from my ordeal, and I am as much a Blue Lion as the rest of the class.”

“Your brother –“

“You said you would not go easy on me, just because of my brother,” pointed out the girl, firmly.

“You were…of course, you were eavesdropping,” sighed Byleth. “You will stay at the back with Mercedes and not do anything that might put you in danger, do you understand? You have almost no martial training at all.” Flayn just grinned.

“Whatever you say, Professor.” Byleth sighed and made her way to her quarters for her gear. If that girl got so much as bruise on her, Seteth would lecture Byleth into her next life.

The ride north was a hard one. Faerghus was already covered in snow, blanketing the world in frozen white. The wind was sharp and Byleth shivered, even wrapped up in all of her layers. She absolutely hated the cold, and it was only going to get worst. It wasn’t even winter yet.

It was hard to ride pass those same villages in Fraldarius territory that Miklan’s gang had pillaged. Ruins, and untended fields haunted by ghosts of the fallen. They made Byleth shiver for a different reason and beside her Felix was more tense than usual. This was to be his land one day, and it had been ravaged.

It took three days of riding to reach the town the bandits had apparently taken over; Glaçon. Byleth had looked up the meaning of the name before leaving Garreg Mach and now thought it an apt name for the place. Ice absolutely suited this northern town with this damned biting wind. Sylvain had said once his homeland was snowed under for most of the year except high summer.

Ashe and Ignatz had gone on ahead with Felix to scout the town. Byleth watched from the hill they had stopped at and surveyed the damage. There was smoke from some fires that had burned out with overnight snows, and the town seemed as deserted as the ravaged villages they had passed. Deep down she understood these men were just trying to survive, but did they really need to be so brutal in their methods? They could steal without killing whole villages and towns.

“They’ve got quite a number to them,” began Ashe. “Four groups of five guarding exits to the town. They probably know we’re here by now, but they definitely expected some sort of retribution from the Margrave.”

“We should split our forces in two,” suggested Felix, and Ignatz nodded in agreement.

“Yes, move half of the class to clear the southern groups while the other clear the north. If we attack them one a time, some will surely escape.”

“Father’s orders were clear; no survivors,” added Sylvain, bitterly. “They'll run off faster than a nobleman's daughter if we just rush in. Target the strongholds to cut off their escape routes.”

“Ok, then. Dimitri, you take the eastern entrance and move south against the strongholds at those exits. Hmm, Felix, Dedue, Flayn, Annette and Ignatz will be with you. Do not get Flayn hurt, or I will drag you with me to Seteth’s inevitable lecture.” The prince smiled at her tightly as he nodded.

“Sylvain, you and I will take Ingrid, Ashe, Hilda, Lysithea and Mercedes from the west and hit the northern strongholds.” With their orders the Blue Lions split in two to take the town. The fight to get in was short and bloody. Lysithea, in particular, was a veritable siege weapon in her own right, drowning men in harrowing black ichor that reminded Byleth all too much of the substance that turned Miklan into a monster. She put it out of her mind as she whipped the Sword of the Creator against the poorly armoured bandits and stepped through the gate.

They moved north through the city, Sylvain and Ingrid’s lances ineffective in the narrow alleyways and twisting streets they fought in. So the lancers brough up the rear, fending off any stragglers and protecting Mercie and Lysithea. Hilda and Byleth cut through the front like butter, the pink haired girl displaying another facet to her usual lazy demeanour in the determination and ferociousness with which she swung her axe at advancing enemies. She cut through more men than even Byleth, with Ashe at their back, dancing quickly between his bow and his own axe whenever needed.

It was a long and slow process fighting through the streets and taking the strongholds at the gates. Byleth’s arms burned with effort and her face throbbed from where a lucky arrow had sliced open her cheek. After five hours and the streets cleared of bandits, she finally let Mercedes sit her on the cobbled street and tend to the wound. It hadn’t been easy, but no one had died, and no one was seriously injured.

Dimitri’s group had encountered a strong group of mages, one of them using that same dark magic as Lysithea and wearing the uniform of the mages who had attacked the Holy Mausoleum. It had actually been Flayn who had taken the dark mage out with an unnaturally powerful light magic attack. The young girl was positively vibrating with pride in her achievement.

They actually slept in one of the abandoned houses, and Byleth took the mid watch with the young healer.

“How do you feel after your first battle?” asked the professor, careful to keep her concerned locked under that stoic mask.

“I mean they were trying to hurt my friends, so I don’t feel so bad about killing them. I can see it disturbs His Highness, though,” added Flayn. She was perceptive for such a young girl. Dimitri always had trouble sleeping after a battle. Perhaps it had something to do with the Tragedy of Duscur; unbidden memories stirred by violence. Byleth knew she was not immune from such things after Flayn’s kidnapping. She had let her memories take over her sense when she rushed the Dark Knight.

“Does it bother you, Professor?”

“Not really,” shrugged Byleth, eyes watching the dark and silent street.

“I happen to be quite curious about you, you know,” said Flayn, watching the professor with curiosity.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Well, because there is something different about you.” The girl seemed to struggle to find the right words, but when she did, Flayn continued: “You possess an air of mystery I could not help but notice when first we met. I am intrigued, to say the least. I find it rather difficult to put into words... Were I to wax poetic, I would say you remind me of the sea.”

“The sea?” Flayn nodded emphatically.

“The sea is vast. Boundless. On the surface, all seems still. Yet beneath that stillness, it is unfathomably deep. Within, it teems with life, yet without, one is lucky to glimpse a fleeting shadow. And yet, all one must do it cast a line to grasp hold of all that life! You cannot see it at a glance, but it is there all the same.”

The description was uncomfortably apt, and Byleth turned her cobalt eyes to the young girl beside her. Flayn saw far too much for someone so young. Some of it was surely the artlessness of youth, but it made Byleth immensely uncomfortable to be so easily unravelled by the girl.

“What are you talking about, exactly?”

“About fish, of course!” grinned the girl before frowning. “Bother, I got side-tracked, didn't I? Right. About the sea... During a storm, the once calm waters become mighty enough to overturn even the vastest ships. Not unlike you. You are calm–you carry yourself with poise. Yet you wield great power. My brother is uncertain of you, however. He referred to you as a youth of...dubious origin.”

“Oh, but please do not think ill of him! He is incredibly dedicated to his work,” explained Flayn, hurriedly. “So surely you understand why he would have doubts about one of whom he knows so little. Nobody even seems to know your age! Incidentally, how old are you?”

“I don't actually know,” shrugged Byleth. Why was everyone so focused on that point?

“Wait–you do not know your own age? You truly are mysterious!” Flayn studied her for a moment in silence, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm... Looking at you, it is quite difficult for me to determine. I wonder... Could you be younger than your own students?”

“And how old are you?” deflected the professor and the girl’s eyes went wide for a moment.

“Who, me? Well, I roughly the same age as the other youths here.”

“You look younger than the others,” countered Byleth and the girl just smiled and shrugged.

“Be that as it may, it is simply not the case. Oh, I think our watch is up. Sweet dreams, Professor.”

Byleth woke Felix for the late watch and curled into bed, cold and exhausted. She pulled Fraldarius’ cloak tightly around her and drifted off into a thankfully dreamless slumber. When she was woken, an uncharacteristic gentle rousing from the self-same Felix, amber eyes full of questions.

“I need a favour.” Byleth rose, stretching her stiff back and arms. The cold meant she slept tense and unmoving. Byleth could not wait to get back to the monastery and soak herself in the baths.

“It’s unusual for you to ask for help,” commented Byleth, catching his eyes before he looked away and shrugged.

“Yes. It is an unusual favour.” He had her full attention now. “A man arrived in the night, from my father. He wants me to return to Fraldarius territory.”

“Rodrigue?” She remembered the man with Felix’s face and better manners from a few months back. “What does he want?”

“After the king’s death, public order disintegrated, as you’ve seen here. Bandits continue to raid villages across the Kingdom, including those within Fraldarius territory. My father says he needs my help driving some of the bandits away.”

“And you want me to join you?” asked Byleth, already pulling on her boots and gloves. What was one more band of thieves on their way home?

“Precisely. Good guess. Perhaps I shouldn’t pull you into this… It stems from my family’s failure to secure the region.”

“We will join you,” answered Byleth in a tone that brokered no further discussion on the.

“Thank you. I would enjoy the chance to see you fight again.” With that the boy was gone and Byleth sighed, forcing her stiff and tired muscles to move against their protestations. A bath would have to wait.

The town that Duke Fraldarius was fighting in was a day’s ride south and east. It was still colder than any place had the right to be in Byleth’s opinion, but at least the wind had died down some. Gentiane was named for the vividly blue wildflowers that grew in this region of Faerghus, and probably would have been a pretty enough town any other day. Perhaps a warmer one, without so many bandits.

They found the Duke with his men, dressed in full armour atop a war horse and the man beamed at them as they crested the hill.

“Felix, my son. And Your Highness,” smiled the man. “You’ve brought reinforcements.” He dismounted to clasp Dimitri’s wrist and Byleth’s. He turned to do the same with his son, but Felix strode past his father without a second glance. The Duke brushed off the slight with good cheer and smiled warmly at Byleth.

“Thank you for taking such good care of my son. It pains me to trouble you, but I humbly request your assistance in helping secure the villagers' safe escape.”

“It is no trouble at all. This was on our way,” assured Byleth, eyes on Felix who was talking to the Fraldarius scouts ahead. Duke Fraldarius turned his attention to the prince.

“I am humbled, Your Highness, and so sorry to trouble you.” The prince waved off the man’s concerns.

“No, it is fine. As a man of royal birth, this is the obvious course. However, it does not exactly seem like they are remnants of Miklan's faction.”

“Indeed. Nothing but common bandits, and yet... Ruffians like that have recently surged in number.” The prince sighed, clearly still troubled by his assumption that this was because he was not yet king. Just like Gaspard, Miklan and Glaçon.

“I am aware. For now, let us focus on saving the villagers.”

“There are three groups of villagers who have taken shelter with a couple of guardsmen. A group of merchants has taken shelter south of the marketplace at the inn. To the west are some children hiding in the orphanage and to the north of the market, some seamstresses have taken shelter in the dye factory,” explained the Duke. Apparently Gentiane made the Faerghus blue dye with the flowers that it was named for, an important enough town for Fraldarius to pay for guardsmen, and rich enough for bandits to think it a good mark.

Byleth peered over the map of the town where he had noted the locations of the villagers and bandits. The attackers were mostly concentrated to the south and west, with only one gate secured at the north-east.

“What does Your Grace suggest our tactics should be?” asked Byleth, looking up from the map to the man who looked nothing like his taciturn son despite shared features. It was all in the set of the jaw.

“I will lead the vanguard. We will cut through to the marketplace and move south to inn. Your students can enter behind us.” Byleth nodded. It made sense to have his trained men take the brunt of the attack, rather than her knights-in-training.

“You will be on horseback?” The man nodded.

“I’ll send my lancers with you; Dimitri, Sylvain and Ingrid are all adept at fighting from horseback and they won’t be mobile enough in the backstreets.” Duke Fraldarius nodded along to her suggestion, and Byleth caught him glancing at the prince. She figured he would worry less if the prince was beside him where he could keep an eye on is future king.

I’ll take…hmmm… Dedue, Lysithea, Ignatz and Flayn south. We can clear the square to the south east and move west. We’ll be slower moving than you on horseback, but this is a mopping up squad. Felix!” Byleth called for the younger Fraldarius and he did turn now, giving his professor is full attention. “You will take the others north, through the backstreets to get to the women. Hilda, Ashe, Mercie, Annie – I’m counting on mobility here. I need you to be fast enough to clear a route for the women and the children south to meet your father at the south west gate. Understood?”

“Yes. I will inform the others.”

“They are your responsibility,” added Byleth, and the young man nodded in understanding, his mouth set in a thin line. He was not great at command, but he was the only person other than the prince with any battlefield awareness. This was also his land.

“Are you sure that it is wise, giving my son command?” asked Duke Fraldarius quietly. “I can spare His Highness for the northern group.” Byleth shook her head.

“The streets to the north are narrow. Felix and Hilda are much more effective there than His Highness. Felix is perfectly capable at command, and I have assigned him our best healer.” The Duke seemed to accept that and Byleth moved to gather her own team.

She rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to loosen those cold-stiffened limbs. She had Dedue at her side, who’s calm competency Byleth trusted more than almost anyone else. Lysithea was fidgeting, and it was clear she hadn’t seen nearly as much fighting in Hanneman’s class as in Byleth’s. Flayn looked almost as nervous as Ignatz, but they held it together a little better than young white-haired mage. This trip north had been a good seasoning venture for her newest additions to the Blue Lions.

The Duke’s men moved fast, cutting a bloody path to the marketplace. Felix and his team all but disappeared into the backroads and Byleth drew her Relic, leading her slower, less experienced team south. The bandits didn’t stand a chance. Dedue protected their mages and Ignatz from the rare straggler who made it past Byleth’s bloody dance.

The Relic did not kill cleanly like a sword when it whipped across the square. Limbs, blood spray and screams followed in its wake. Someone else would have found the wanton bloodshed disturbing and Byleth had to give the mages a break as both girls retched into bushes. Ignatz looked pale, but he had seen the destruction the Sword of the Creator wreaked, and Dedue was immoveable as stone.

Both young girls buried the horror behind determined masks, casting their magic against the men who thought to rush their professor. Blood, black magic, arrows. The Ashen Demon knew where not to be, as if she felt the magic and arrows passing over her skin. As soon as Ignatz let fly an arrow or Lysithea one of her insidious dark spells, Byleth was no longer there, Relic dancing through the southern square like a twisted jump rope.

It took far less time to liberate Gentiane than the Gautier town. Mostly, due to the assistance of the Duke. Byleth was completely unscathed. Any time a sword or axe had so much as glance at her exposed skin, Flayn’s magic had washed over her. Sylvain had not been so lucky.

Both Ingrid and Mercedes were clucking at the redhead who sat on the ground. Well, Mercie was clucking, Ingrid was lecturing. “You’re a damned fool! Putting yourself in danger like that!”

“H-Hey, Professor,” managed Sylvain, with a pained lopsided smile as Byleth approached them.

“The idiot jumped from his damned horse in front of an arrow I was perfectly able to _block_ ,” answered Ingrid, glaring at her friend. “Wrenched his knee _and_ got himself shot for nothing.”

“You know, Ingrid, a little appreciation for my self-sacrifice would go a long way. Saving a damsel in distress is pretty heroic,” added Sylvain, clearly poking for reactions.

“Punch him once I close the wound, please,” interrupted Mercedes, not even looking up to know that Ingrid was set on hitting the redhead. Ingrid opened her mouth to say something, closing it with a click instead and storming off to tend to her horse.

“Anyone else?” Byleth asked of the healer and she shook her head.

“Our team was fine, nothing buts cuts and bruises. Of course, they weren’t jumping in front of arrows,” added the young woman serenely and Sylvain groaned.

“Come on, Mercedes, not you, too.”

“Don’t use your body as a shield next time,” answered the woman with a soft smile. The Duke came over to Byleth, offering her a firm wrist clasp. His armour looked a little scratched, but he seemed fine as he smiled warmly at her.

“We are grateful for your help. I doubt those bandits will stop anytime soon. But at least this village is safe. This village was important to the late king. If we hadn’t saved it, I wouldn’t have been able to face His Majesty.” Byleth nodded as Felix scoffed behind her. She hadn’t even realised he’d been there. The boy was sure light on his feet.

“How foolish.”

“Pardon?” The Duke looked past her at his son, who only glared in return.

“We were protecting your subjects, not your ego. I don’t give a damn as to whether you can bring yourself to face a dead king.”

“I will not tolerate such talk from you,” warned the Duke, in a tone that reminded Byleth of her own father back when she was younger.

“I came here to hone my blade, and to save innocent people. I suppose if I had died, you would say the same thing you did after Glenn’s death. “He died like a true knight.”” Rodrigue just stared at Felix. “I have nothing more to say. I’m going back.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” apologised Rdrigue, quietly. “He’s been that way for four years now.”

“After the Tragedy of Duscur?” asked Byleth carefully. She didn’t want to pry, but their relationship was certainly…well, at least strained.”

“I lost my first-born there, Felix’s older brother, Glenn. To this day, I’m proud of Glenn. He gave his life to protect Prince Dimitri. If he had abandoned His Highness and fled, I don’t know that I could have forgiven him… I would have been deeply ashamed,” admitted the Duke and Byleth understood very clearly why Felix didn’t like his father much. To him, the lives of his own children came second to duty.

“But no one would have been more ashamed than Glenn himself. It was in his nature to be noble and true. As a knight serving the royal family, his duty was to be loyal to the end, even if it meant his life. If he had abandoned that duty and survived the incident, there’s no way he could have lived on in peace. Felix can’t understand that. He’s young and foolish. Of course, I understand his sentiment, to some extent. It all comes down to… Well, a difference of opinion,” sighed the older man.

“I understand Felix as well.” Byleth couldn’t quite keep her tone neutral and she knew the Duke had heard her disapproval. Her father would never speak of her like this or expect her to throw her life away for something just because he thought it to be duty. But perhaps things were different in families that were not headed by a deserting knight running a mercenary company in Morfis.

“How fortunate Felix is to have met someone like you. There’s nothing as heartening as having someone around who really understands you,” said Duke Fraldarius, evaluating her with the same amber eyes of his son. “He’s an odd boy. Thick-headed in some ways, but he’s my son all the same. I’m glad he has you to look after him.”

Byleth nodded and the Duke took his leave, moving to speak with Dimitri. They camped with the Duke’s men before leaving at first light to ride south. Felix did not seem to relax any until they crossed the southern border into Galatea territory. He did, however, appear to be carrying a shield Byleth had never seen before; cut from bone like her sword, the Crest of Fraldarius emblazoned on the front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I live.
> 
> Obviously, this chapter has taken a lot longer than my usual, in and around hell shifts at the hospital. I'm lucky in that I live somewhere that has successfully kept cases south of what our hospitals are capable of handling, but that doesn't mean work stops or that I get much in the way of time off. 
> 
> It has been a rough...I don't even know how many weeks and I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there.


	14. Painted Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re looking serious as ever, Teach,” smirked Claude. She hadn't noticed him riding up beside her, lost in her own thoughts. Her surprise was carefully hidden on her face, but his smirk only grew stronger.
> 
> “A silver for your thoughts?”
> 
> “I think I would be good at dancing,” answered Byleth, truthfully. She enjoyed his expression, clearly not expecting that answer.
> 
> “I…what?”

It was a few days after they returned to the monastery that Sylvain received a letter from his father. He looked very uncomfortable when he came to class that morning; so distracted he didn’t even make a lewd comment when Byleth asked him a question.

“What? Sorry, Professor,” stammered the redhead. Byleth pointed to Lysithea, who almost bouncing out of her seat with her hand in the air.

“Archers in the front lines, Professor. Their arrows are particularly well suited to clipping a wyvern’s wings, forcing their riders to fight on foot.”

“Correct,” nodded Byleth, before continuing her lecture about air unit tactics. Ingrid sent him a worried look, before returning to her diligent note taking. She had a Pegasus Knight exam at the end of the week she was training hard to pass.

As class wound down, Byleth stopped Sylvain as he slowly packed up his untouched books. “Sylvain, could you stay back a moment?” Still no inappropriate reply. Honestly, it worried the professor.

“What’s going on?” she asked, leaning on the desk and watching him with those emotionless evaluating eyes. Sylvain sighed, pulling free the letter from the Margrave for her.

“My father wrote. He wanted me to prove myself worthy of our family Relic. He sent that, too.” Byleth’s eyes skimmed the letter in the cold perfect script of a noble scribe. “The same Relic that killed my brother; well, it’s mine now.”

“Isn't that dangerous?” asked Byleth, careful not to crumple the letter as she felt herself tense at the news. She didn’t want to see her silly lancer turning into a monster.

“Not remotely,” answered Sylvain, shaking his head. He managed one of his plastered-on smiles for a moment. “I bear the Crest of Gautier. The same Crest my brother wished for his whole life but never came to possess.”

“You still think of him, don’t you?”

“I suppose I am.” He looked as lost sitting there in her empty classroom as he had looked after the fight at Conand Tower. “Miklan hated me from the moment he found out I had a Crest and he didn't. He was selfish and egotistical.”

“I know it's not right to say bad things about the dead, but he earned it,” shrugged Sylvain, tone bitter. “Even now, I'm still cleaning up his messes. I have to wonder though. What if it was the other way around? If he had the Crest and I didn't. Would I be the one my father thought was worth forgetting? Or would my fate have been wholly unlike his?”

Byleth reached out and placed her hand on his. Trying to reassure the young man with touch. “Thinking like that won't get you anywhere.”

“You're probably right, Professor. It's not like me, is it?” said Sylvain, with a half-hearted smile. “I don't pray much...but I think I'm going to pray for those who lost their lives to the thieves tonight and for all of us. I'm afraid there are more days like this coming our way.” He rose from his seat. Once again, Byleth glimpsed the young man who hid behind those easy smiles and flirtatious words, a sad and lonely person.

“Why do you say that?” asked Byleth, back on her feet and fixing him with that impenetrable gaze.

“Faerghus has always been a cold place; never very well-to-do. Until about 10 years ago, my family’s region was a battlefield for the people of the Sreng Region to the north and after the late king fell, the whole Kingdom became unstable. So, it's no real surprise that more and more people are resorting to thievery just to survive,” said Sylvain. Byleth walked with him toward the cathedral. She pulled her cloak tighter as the cold wind picked up at the bridge.

“There are those rumours of the current regent being too busy chasing the ladies to bother with governing. Don't worry, I get the irony,” he added with a knowing smirk. “The whole damn Kingdom is in decline because of nonsense like that. I'm hoping once we get Dimitri on the throne everything will get better. Professor, if I could, I'd still like to buy you a drink sometime.”

“You have another favour to ask?” asked Byleth, forcing a smile that the redhead returned. This one touched his eyes, if only for a second.

“No, I'm just asking a friend to hang out, that's all,” assured Sylvain. “Thank you for everything, Professor. I couldn't have done it alone.” The young noble actually bowed before leaving her on the bridge to pray at the cathedral. Byleth watched him go, somewhat confused. She felt as though something had shifted in their relationship, _friend_. Byleth hadn’t had many of those before - Priya, Shamas - but she decided she liked the idea of having Sylvain as a friend.

The rest of the month was eaten up with preparations. Byleth put her open training on hiatus, spending the time instead with additional training with her house.

She had Felix partnered up with Annette and Lysithea. They taught him magical theory and in return he instructed them, albeit harshly, in melee. Dimitri had taken up training Flayn and Ignatz. Flayn actually had a talent for lance fighting that delighted the young prince, and he helped push Ignatz with his battle archery so that the gentle archer was quickly catching up with Ashe’s skills.

Ashe and Mercedes worked with Dedue and Hilda on their dexterity. The two archers used them as moving targets and had to keep on their toes once the axe wielders got in their face. Mercie no longer had the flinch she had six months ago when it came to face to face combat.

Ingrid and Sylvain sparred together, good natured and fiercely competitive. Byleth worked with them on dealing with opponents who could get inside the reach of their lances. Felix even volunteered to help with this, and it was quite gratifying to see the young swordsman step up for something other than his own melee development.

The Blue Lions trained long and hard, and Byleth was immensely proud of her students. They worked hard both for qualifying exams and the competition

On the day of the mock battle, Byleth dressed in her full armour as if she were going to a real battle. A padded gambeson under her usual black tunic. A thick, soft leather brigandine her father had commissioned for her some years back in Morfis. It allowed her movement that the hardened leather she saw in Garreg Mach’s market could not give her. She fastened her cloak and laced her boots. Jeralt had once tried to get her to cover up with greaves and bracers, but they slowed her down. Byleth sacrificed greater protection for speed, and she figured it a good trade.

Combing her hair back into tight braid, Sothis watched her from the bed. “This is just a practice, you know,” smiled the spirit and Byleth shrugged at her.

“Seteth was clear that this ought to be treated as the real thing. I fully intend to give it my all, even if the weapons are blunted.” With that, Byleth left her rooms and made her way to the hall. Dedue and Dimitri were waiting for her, and Dimitri grinned widely upon seeing her. He was dressed in his freshly commissioned Lord’s armour, Dedue like a human wall of steel in heavy plate.

“The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is finally upon us! This is our chance to show off the results of your expert training, Professor,” said the prince, clearly excited to get out there.

“Your Highness, if the rumors are true, I believe Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman will not be joining us,” added Dedue quietly.

“Ah, yes, right you are. Given recent events, Professor Manuela has opted to sit this one out,” continued Dimitri. “Since she won't be present, Professor Hanneman has decided to skip this year as well.”

“In that case, I must sit out too.” Byleth had no great concerns that her absence would net a loss for her House. They had put their all into their training and performed exceptionally in northern Faerghus.

“Oh, don't worry about u,” said Manuela from behind Byleth. She turned to see both her colleagues walking toward her, stiffly in the songstress’s case.

“Professor Manuela! Are you feeling better already?” asked Dimitri with a small respectful bow.

“Thanks to your class,” smiled Manuela. “But I'd only be a burden out there. My students don't need to see me collapsed. Well, not on the battlefield, anyway.”

“While we may not be participating, do not expect victory to come easily. Or at all,” added Hanneman, his usual calm demeanour fractured for a second with competitive smile.

“Well put,” said Manuela with a small laugh. “We've spent the past few months pushing our students to their limits. You can see me in the infirmary after they destroy you.”

“This doesn't seem fair,” said Byleth, and Hanneman grinned at her as Manuela laughed.

“Oh my, look at you. If you're as confident as all that, my students will walk all over you,” poked the healer good-naturedly.

“We have taught our students well. There is no need to hold back. Challenge them with everything you have,” added Hanneman with confidence. Byleth nodded, clasping wrists with her colleagues before they left. Her students began filtering into the hall, freshly qualified in new specialisations.

Ingrid had excelled in her Pegasus Knight exam, beaming almost as bright as her polished plate breastplate. Sylvain had qualified as a Cavalier to no one’s surprise, the armour making his height and broad shoulders even more evident. Hilda’s Brigand armour looked incredibly warm, and of course the pink-haired girl added her own stylish flair to the design of her armour.

While Ignatz had qualified as an Archer, Ashe had surprised Byleth by qualifying as a Thief classed fighter. She had not known he’d been getting extra sword practice in with Felix. Felix himself was dressed much like Byleth, the padded leather of a Mercenary swordsman. Lysithea and Annette wore the dark robes of qualified Mages, contrasting with Flayn and Mercedes’ white Priest robes.

The didn’t look nearly as much like the kids they were, and Byleth felt pride settling in the pit of her stomach. None of that showed in her face as she led the Blue Lions to the stables and mounted Mutt. All the students and a contingent of knights marched south from Garreg Mach at a leisurely pace toward Gronder Field.

She found herself riding beside Ignatz, the quiet young archer muttering to himself as he took in the scenery.

“OK. I've decided on the composition,” said the boy quite suddenly and Byleth turned her head to him.

“Composition?” The boy almost jumped from his saddle, face red as he turned to Byleth suddenly, almost pulling his horse into Mutt. It was only through her own quick reflexes they didn’t run into one another.

“Sorry, Professor. I was thinking about my paint - uh, no, I misspoke! Did I say painting? I meant to say, uh...” His face only turned redder as he stumbled over his words.

“You paint?” asked Byleth, calmly. Ignatz did not meet her eyes, face still red as he stared at his mare's head.

“Well, I've thought for a while that it might be nice to paint the scenery here. The contours of that tree, set against the stark shapes of the faraway peaks...” mused the quiet archer. She followed his eyes to the scenery. She didn’t see anything all too fantastic about it all, but the sensitive boy saw with an artist’s eyes. “Of course, I only paint after I've finished my chores. I'd never put my art before my responsibilities! My studies are paramount. I shall always uphold my duties as a student of the Officers Academy! Whereas art is...a hobby of mine, you might say. Everyone has hobbies, right? I'm sure you have one.”

“Does sword play count as a hobby?” asked Byleth. She didn’t do much else other than study, practice and teach. What else was there?

“Well, perhaps it's different for you, Professor,” said Ignatz diplomatically. “Something like reading, for instance. Or fishing, or taking midday naps.”

“I read magic theory? Fishing I only ever did for food, and I’m not usually tired during the day.” The boy chuckled at that for some reason.

“Hobbies are usually things that don’t have a survival reason. You just do them for fun. For me, it's making art,” said Ignatz. “Hobbies are healthy! They're a good way of relieving stress. You might consider taking up a hobby, Professor. Anything to clear your mind. Think about it. It's much easier to focus if you're feeling refreshed. There isn't a rule against hobbies, is there? If you tell me to stop, I'll stop. I shall never again put brush to canvas!”

“Paint as much as you like,” answered Byleth, her attention turned inward. “If you would like to show me, I would be interested. I’ve never had a …hobby.”

“Really? It's OK for me to paint? Well... I mean, if you're sure.” He looked panicked at her suggestion of sharing his painting with his professor, however. “My paintings aren’t good enough to show anyone. Really, it's nothing more than a little diversion. A frivolous pastime.”

“OK.” Byleth wondered what sort of hobbies she would be good at or enjoy. Fishing was a boring chore, necessary for survival, but not something she would do to relax like her father did. Drinking was probably a bad one to take up. Dancing?

It was close enough to swordplay she might even be good at it, and it would really help her with her footwork. _He said they don’t have a survival reason. You do it for fun,_ chastised Sothis’s voice and Byleth ignored her.

“You’re looking serious as ever, Teach,” smirked Claude. She hadn't noticed him riding up beside her, lost in her own thoughts. Her surprise was carefully hidden on her face, but his smirk only grew stronger.

“A silver for your thoughts?”

“I think I would be good at dancing,” answered Byleth, truthfully. She enjoyed his expression, clearly not expecting that answer.

“I…what?”

“Ignatz was discussing his hobby, and I realised I had none,” answered Byleth with a shrug. “I think I would like to dance. It couldn’t hurt.”

“I…genuinely don’t know what to say to that,” admitted the boy. “What sort of dancing do you think you’d take up?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Byleth. “Maybe, I’ll ask Dorothea about it. I’ve seen dancing in Morfis, obviously, but it’s probably nothing like dancing in Fόdlan.” Claude chuckled at that.

“Probably not. I’ve seen Morfisian fire dancers. They definitely do not do that here.”

“Oh, have you visited?” asked Byleth and there was a wall that came up behind his eyes.

“Ah, no.” He didn’t look like he planned to elaborate and Byleth felt curiosity rise inside her. Where else would he see a fire dancer? Mofisian performers very rarely travelled to Fόdlan, some kind of cultural protection law or something. Byleth had barely paid attention when Priya’s father had complained about it years ago. He had run a company of fire dancers who were quite well known in Morfis. 

“A hobby is probably a good thing,” said Claude.

“What is your hobby?” Claude smirked at her and Byleth immediately regretted her question.

“Oh, piqued your interest, have I, Teach?” asked Claude with one of those annoying winks.

“Forget I asked,” said Byleth in a clipped tone. She urged Mutt to move ahead of the Golden Deer house leader.

“Wait, Teach!” called Claude with an exasperated sigh. “I’m just joking with you.” Byleth slowed her horse, levelly a glare at the boy.

“I make and test different kinds of poisons,” admitted the boy, and Byleth found her annoyance drain away. That was certainly an _interesting_ hobby to say the least.

“Why such a dangerous hobby?” asked Byleth. From Ignatz she had thought hobbies were harmless things, distractions. This was not one of those. Claude just shrugged.

“Well, I grew up in an environment where it was necessary to think that way. It’s like I told you before, I wasn’t born into a life of luxury.” She remembered the conversation, over lunch after he had attempted to interrogate her about her mother. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been seen as…different from those around me, an outsider of sorts. I’ve been resented and hated. There have even been attempts on my life. I don’t believe I’ve earned such treatment, but that’s how it goes for people like me.”

“I don’t think of you as an outsider,” said Byleth and the young noble smiled at that. A real smile that touched his eyes for once.

“Thanks, Teach. In the right environment, anyone could be seen as an outsider. It can become…overwhelming. That’s why I kept running, kept fighting,” explained Claude, looking so much older than eighteen. “As a kid I spent a lot of time licking my wounds and coming up with schemes, trying to keep my nose out of trouble while plotting against my enemies. My parents always told me I wouldn’t grow stronger if I didn’t learn to fight my own battles. So, in the end, I did. I grew up to be as independent and self-reliant as my parents always wished for me to be. Lucky me, right?”

Byleth didn’t really know how to answer that. She too was self-reliant, independent, but his childhood seemed…cold compared to her own. All the nobles’ childhoods seemed that way from her perspective. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“If anyone knows what I’m talking about, it must be you. Eh, Teach?” That easy smiling façade was back, just like Sylvain. “I get the feeling you know what it’s like to be an outsider. The moment I first laid eyes on you; I knew you weren’t like everyone else. People don’t care for folks like that. You’d do well to watch your back.”

As if realising that came out almost like a threat, he grinned and winked at her. “On the bright side, that’s also part of the reason that I find you so interesting.”

“What you see is what you get,” shrugged Byleth. He and so many of her students had a somewhat unhealthy fascination with her that made the mercenary rather uncomfortable.

“I doubt that very much,” quipped Claude with a laugh. Thankfully, the conversation ended as they topped the next hill and Byleth stared out over a field of golden grass. Briefly, she wondered what Ignatz saw with his painter’s eyes looking over this.

Trees to the north, where the Blue Lions would be starting from, a narrow river acting as a natural defence against the other two Houses. The Golden Deer were nowhere to be seen, somewhere in the eastern forest; a location she knew Claude would be very comfortable in. Edelgard and Manuela had taken the ruined fort to the west, closest to the ballista tower and Byleth did not doubt the soon-to-be Empress had every intention of taking that tower early.

She dismounted, tying Mutt to a tree and gathered her house. Byleth could feel their excitement, like one of Felix’s lightning spells crackling through the air. Eager as ever to prove themselves.

“So, this is to be our battlefield. Gronder Field. Are you feeling confident, Professor?” asked Dimitri, struggling to keep the excitement out of his voice. Byleth nodded firmly.

“Very.”

“Excellent. That's most reassuring.” The prince wore a beaming grin, something that had been missing from his face the last few months of bloody mission after bloody mission. “We can win. I'm sure of it. After all, it's not as though we've spent the last half-year sitting idle. I'm feeling stronger this moon, as though I could conquer a thousand opponents all on my own.”

“That's reassuring,” said Byleth. She didn’t want to dim the young royal’s confidence even if such a thing would absolutely be impossible.

“You can depend on me. I hope you know that.” Dimitri said that with such passion, Byleth did believe him. He had been a dependable right hand the past six months, and it made her a little sad that he would graduate in six months and she would probably not see him again.

“Well, it's about time for the battle to begin. Everyone, brace yourselves,” added the prince to the rest of the class with a confident smile. Felix just rolled his eyes.

“Hmph. All I'm worried about is finding someone worthy to cross swords with.” Byleth noticed he was looking toward where the Black Eagles were stationing themselves, as if he was trying to mark Petra from across the river.

“We've prepared and trained a great deal. We should be fine, right?” asked Mercedes, serene as ever. Annette, on the other hand, looked anxious.

“You're always so carefree, Mercie! Don't forget we need to try our hardest out there so we can win!”

“This is our chance to show how hard we've been working! Let's do our best,” added Ashe with an easy smile. Ignatz nodded to his fellow archer’s words.

“Win or lose, it's an honour just to participate in the legendary Battle of the Eagle and Lion”

“If I emerge victorious in the lauded Battle of the Eagle and Lion, the ladies are sure to take notice. I'll have to go into hiding,” laughed Sylvain, earning him a slap from Ingrid on his shoulder he certainly didn’t feel through the armour.

“Ugh, is that all you think about?” Ingrid thought about it for a second and smiled, instead. “Actually, as long as you try your hardest, frame it however you like.”

“One person’s glory is not the point of this exercise,” chastised Lysithea with a pointed glare at the redhead. “The whole point of this exercise is for each house to act as one.” Flayn laughed at the other young girl’s words

“Then, I shall give it my all,” she promised the mage, chipper as ever.

“Do your best! I can't wait to see how well everyone does,” encouraged Hilda, rolling her shoulders to warm up after the ride.

“No matter the battle, I will never falter,” swore Dedue, as always directing his words to Dimitri. The prince smiled at everyone and looked down at the professor by his side.

“We're counting on your guidance, Professor. Let's show the world what the Blue Lions are made of!”

“Let’s,” agreed Byleth.

She and Dimitri, with the help of Sylvain and Annette, had come up with solid strategy for the mock battle. In a real war, Byleth knew no battle like this would take place. Wars were won in skirmishes and sieges, not large-scale battles on open fields, no matter what the stories told. Those were no fun, however, and that was exactly what this competition was shaping up to be.

 _I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call anything fun before_ , remarked Sothis from the back of her mind. Byleth hushed the green haired girl. She needed to concentrate if her house was going to win.

Byleth was sending her fastest units west, to cross the bank into the Black Eagle forces. They were spread thin across the field, taking up as much territory as possible, but leaving themselves cut off from support. Sylvain, Ingrid, Annette and Ashe were in that team.

She was sending Dimitri, Dedue, Hilda, Mercedes, Lysithea and Ignatz up through the middle. They were going to hit the tower in full force and thus it was packed with overwhelming strength so they could capture it quickly, leaving Ignatz to fire on anyone in the fields below with Dedue as an immoveable fortress between the archer and any attackers.

Byleth was heading east through the trees with Felix at her side and Flayn at her back. She had taken almost half the Golden Deer into her own House, which meant Claude would be the easiest foe to conquer, with or without his schemes. Both the other Houses had been given knights as extra support as the Blue Lions was larger than any of them.

Felix moved beside her like a ghost as they crept through the trees. Even Flayn was blessedly quiet on her feet behind them. The first line of Golden Deer defence was Lorenz, flanked by a lancer with Shamir at his back actually. Byleth held up a hand to stop Felix and Flayn, watching the violet haired noble carefully. He didn’t see them hiding in the shadow of the tree line.

Instead he moved west, to attack the stronghold. Byleth caught Shamir’s rolled eyes; clearly this was not the agreed upon strategy, but she followed the noble, nonetheless. That allowed Byleth and her two students to creep carefully south. Dimitri could handle Lorenz and Shamir.

Claude had Leonie as the next line of defence with another lancer and an axeman at her side. Byleth had sparred with the redhead a few times. Leonie claimed to have been taught by Jeralt, perhaps on one of his trips away from Morfis, but the instruction had not been a long one. She was eager, but sloppy, as much as Byleth would expect by someone mostly self-taught.

She and Felix took down the lancer quickly and quietly, along with her support. Flayn had actually taken down the axe wielding knight, according to the rues of mock combat with a well-placed spell. Byleth moved her small team quickly into the trees when she heard footfalls.

Raphael lumbered past with a lancer at his side. They were moving west toward the Black Eagles. Byleth couldn’t see if Dimitri’s team was there to engage the large fighter or if it was still Edelgard’s people. Not that she needed to, she trusted her people. They would hold the line.

Byleth’s senses felt heightened as they moved slowly south. Claude was a tricky one. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, ears straining for even the lightest sound. She didn’t hear the arrow loose, before Felix was tackling her to ground; the blunted arrow bouncing off the ground where she had been standing. He rolled off her quickly and Byleth was quick to her feet. She blocked the next arrow, and shouted back at Flayn, cover already blown.

“Stay out of range!” The green haired girl nodded firmly, gripping her lance as she scanned the tree line.

“There,” growled Felix and he was off at a run. He was much faster than Byleth, but she wasn’t too far behind him as he sped through the trees. Byleth almost ran into Marianne, the blue haired girl yelping in surprise. Byleth quickly levelled her sword at the girl who gave up so quickly, marking herself dead.

Byleth rolled out of way of another arrow, her ears picking up the sounds of a scuffle ahead of her. Her sharp eyes caught an archer in the trees. She sent a weakened Fire spell at the archer’s feet, breaking the branch he stood on and the man dropped his bow to grip the tree.

“I’m dead,” conceded the knight and Byleth moved toward the fighting she could hear ahead. Two other ‘dead’ archers watched the fight as Byleth broke through the trees. Felix and Claude were on the ground, axe and sword in hand as they fought to get the upper hand. Claude twisted like a snake under Felix, flipping the pair with his axe raised for the ‘kill’. Byleth moved fast, cold blunted steel pressed against Claude’s throat.

“Damn,” said Claude with a smirk, dropping his axe. Felix pushed the tanned archer off him, and trudged over to his sword, picking it up. Claude continued to smile as he announced himself ‘dead’. “One of these days, Teach, I am going to outsmart you.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” retorted Byleth as she checked on Felix. He had a few scrapes from the underbrush but waved off her inspection gruffly.

“Thank you,” said the swordsman, as an afterthought. “We should head west and assist the others.”

Byleth nodded. They made their way west, through the trees, and found Flayn. The young girl was grinning.

“I took out Lorenz,” said the girl. “He was retreating from the tower. Ignatz is apparently wreaking havoc up there.” Byleth nodded, Flayn falling in behind the two swordsmen. It was good to see their strategy play out so smoothly.

They broke the final tree line to see Dimitri and Hilda fighting side by side, against Edelgard’s last wall of defence, Dorothea, Hubert and Caspar. Someone had taken down Raphael, but neither Lysithea nor Mercedes were anywhere to be seen. Byleth could make out Sylvain and Ingrid, both deftly being held off by the princess, while Annette rushed Linhardt. Ashe was barely holding his own against Petra who moved just as fast as her young archer.

“Felix, north: help Ashe. Flayn, take out Hubert; your light spells count double against him.” She could feel her students move to follow her orders as she ran at Dorothea. There had been a time Dorothea yielded without much of a fight, but six months of training had made a difference. She rolled out of reach, throwing a weakened lightning spell at the Professor. Byleth moved faster, though, jumping out of the spell’s radius, rolling with her landing to slice her blunted sword hard against the girl’s shins.

Dorothea hissed, her own sword coming down and easily blocked. Byleth elbowed the girl in the stomach, careful to pull back enough not to injure the student but hit hard enough to hurt. Dorothea did double over then, winded and dropped her sword. Byleth completed her ‘kill’ and the girl looked so disappointed.

A gong echoed around the battlefield and Byleth looked up to realise her Lions had won. Felix and Ashe had managed to take down Petra, splitting off to help Annette with Linhardt. Sylvain and Ingrid had worn down Edelgard between the two of them. Dimitri, Hilda and Flayn had managed to best Hubert and Caspar.

Dimitri was suddenly at her side as Seteth’s voice boomed through the field as if amplified by magic. “That is the end of this year's Battle of the Eagle and Lion! And the winners are... The Blue Lions!” Dimitri beamed. Excited the prince wrapped his arms around Byleth, lifting her from the ground as if she weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

“We won!” He seemed to realise the woman in his arms had eyes wide with shock and quickly placed her feet back on the ground with an apology. “Sorry, Professor. It’s not like me to forget decorum so completely.”

“It’s fine. You’re excited. I understand,” assured Byleth, reigning her shock back from her face. It didn’t stop the young boy’s cheeks from turning pink. “Let’s get everyone home, shall we? I think we could all do with a bath.”

“Yes, of course,” nodded Dimitri, thankful for the change in subject. Edelgard stepped in his path, offering her hand in a wrist clasp.

“I assumed you would attack us head-on. I clearly need to rethink my opinion of you. Well done, Dimitri,” congratulated the heavily armoured young princess. Dimitri accepted her wrist clasp warmly.

“Well done, Your Princeliness. I'm certainly not in any hurry to get on your bad side,” called Claude, smiling as he strolled toward them. He flashed those green eyes sidelong at Byleth for a moment.

“You both deserve equal praise for a battle well fought. All three houses did extremely well. Don't you agree, Professor?” asked Dimitri, looking down at her at his side. Honestly, most of the boys were beginning to dwarf her, in the final stages of their respective growth spurts.

“One did better,” answered Byleth with a small proud smile. Dimitri laughed at her words.

“It only seemed that way because of the calibre of your command and strategy,” said Dimitri. “Even now, we must not allow ourselves to become complacent.”

“In any case, I hope the day never comes when we have to put this experience to use,” commented Claude with another one of those smiles that did not quite reach his eyes.

“I wouldn't mind. I'll accept a challenge from either of you at any time,” answered Edelgard with a shrug. At the stunned reaction her words received, the young white-haired princess smiled. “I'm kidding, of course!”

“That is nothing to joke about.” Dimitri shook his head at her words. “The true Battle of the Eagle and Lion is best left in the past. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they eventually change the name of this mock battle.”

“On that note, I have a proposition,” said Claude, looking at his two fellow heirs. “When we get back to Garreg Mach, let's have a grand feast to bring down the walls between our respective houses. And by a "grand" feast, I mean a fairly regular feast in the dining hall.”

You really value that kind of thing, don't you?” mused the princess, thoughtful for a moment before she nodded sharply in agreement. “Well, I suppose no harm can come from it. Count me in.”

“I have no objections either. And you, Professor?” She was surprised yet again that the invitation was extended to her and she felt her lips pulling into a small smile at the warmth that settled in her chest at the blond prince’s earnest question.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

“You look so...happy. I love seeing you like this,” smiled Dimitri before turning pink at his own words. Out the corner of her eye, Claude was smirking like a cat with a small bird in it’s reach. “I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps the best one of all,” recovered Dimitri valiantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience everyone. Work has very much calmed down and I have some much needed leave to relax at home and get back to writing.
> 
> Updates should be more regular from now on :)


	15. Memories of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that what this is? Friendship?” Sothis smiled at her, almost pityingly.
> 
> “If you asked them, I am sure they would say it is. You love them, and they love you. You protect each, lift each other up. That is friendship.”
> 
> “How do you know this? You couldn’t even remember your own name when we met,” pointed out Byleth pragmatically, pulling Dimitri’s loose gloves back over her much smaller hands. Sothis made a rude noise.
> 
> “I don’t remember names, but I remember the feeling. I had friends once, before you. I’m sure of it. Get some rest. I will keep watch and wake you if there is danger.”

Back at Garreg Mach the students were quick to begin celebrations in the dining hall. Byleth found she enjoyed the celebration, sitting at a table with Dimitri and watching the students mingle and laugh together. Manuela and Hanneman had joined the celebration in the beginning before the songstress had to retire, easily tired with her recovering injuries and Hanneman escorting her to her room despite their bickering as they left.

Dorothea was dancing with Annette and Petra, laughing all the while, and Byleth watched the girl carefully, wondering once again if she would enjoy the hobby. Hilda plopped down beside her, face flushed from her own contributions to the dance.

“Daydreaming, Professor?” asked Hilda with a smile. “It's lucky. As spacey as you are, you're always reliable in a pinch.”

“I wasn't daydreaming.”

“Sure.” The pink haired girl’s tone suggested she didn’t believe her professor. “Then what were you thinking about?”

“Dancing. It’s very different here then what I saw growing up,” admitted Byleth, taking a bite of some warm pastry Mercedes had pressed into her hands with a smile. Byleth had eaten so much she might just burst at the seams.

“Huh. It's hard to tell what's going on in that skull of yours. Your expression is always blank. Come on... Smile!” encouraged Hilda with a grin. “By the way, in the next battle, may I focus on logistical support... off the battlefield? There's no use having a weakling like me in the middle of the action. And it would bring down morale if I were killed.”

“You're not a weakling,” said Byleth and the girl sighed. “You were vital to our victory today, and have been vital in every mission you have assisted in. Why don't you want to fight?”

“My big brother is the type of person who's supposed to be on the battlefield. For me, it's just a waste of energy. Everyone's cut out for something different. The right person for the right task, you know?”

“You can be good at more than one thing, Hilda. Ignatz has introduced me to hobbies; you have these?” Hilda giggled.

“Of course, Professor.” She gestured to the delicate ornaments she decorated her pigtails with. “I make jewellery and accessories. Cute, right?”

“They suit you.”

“Much better than battle,” insisted the girl and Byleth almost shook her head.

“Maybe you should decorate your axe.” Hilda looked surprised at the suggestion and just blinked at Byleth wide eyed.

“Was…was that a joke, Professor?”

“It has been known to happen.”

“I’m going to mark it on the calendar. The Church should make it a holy day,” quipped the girl with a cheeky wink.

“Hilda!” The girl was distracted as Annette pulled her back into the dance and Byleth picked at her plate, sampling the beautifully crafted desserts Mercedes had made herself. They were soft and flaky and so sweet they made her teeth hurt; much like their creator herself.

Dimitri nudged her arm with his and Byleth turned her cobalt eyes on her house leader. “I had a wonderful time today, Professor. As usual, I am astonished by how much you have managed to eat in the name of celebration!”

“Really, though, I must thank you again. Our victory in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion was thanks, in no small part, to you,” added Dimitri, that sweet heartfelt earnestness back in his voice again. Gone was the darkness that threatened behind those blue eyes.

“We all did our part, Dimitri.”

“Yes, that is true, but it was your instruction that allowed us to reach our full potential.” Byleth nodded, raising her hand to cover a yawn. Dimitri jumped to his feet and offered Byleth his hand. “Are you tired, Professor? Please, allow me to escort you to your room.”

“Thank you, Dimitri. Today has been a good one, but certainly long.” Byleth accepted his hand and rose to her feet. They left behind the warmth and din of celebration for the biting cool breeze of the darkened courtyard. Beside her in the darkness, the prince fidgeted.

“I feel silly admitting this now, but when you first came to lead our class...you unnerved me,” said Dimitri, as if admitting to some trespass. “You never smiled, and you never showed anger either; yet, you didn't appear to be suppressing your emotions. They just were not there. At first, I thought perhaps you just did not care for us, but I soon concluded that was not the case at all. For the longest time I just could not tell what you were thinking. It was as though you had no humanity whatsoever...”

He looked aghast at his own words, but Byleth knew herself well enough not to take offense. She wasn’t named the Ashen Demon for nothing.

“And now?”

“You're different now. In the half-year we've spent together, I've seen the glow of humanity in your eyes and in your actions countless times,” said Dimitri, that endearing earnest tone back again as he looked down at her with an expression Byleth couldn’t recognise. “I am truly grateful to have had the chance to spend this time with you, Professor.”

“Getting cozy, are we? Mind if I cut in?” Sylvain’s voice broke through the unnameable tension like a heated blade and Byleth turned to see the redhead with a wide almost gleeful grin on his face as he strode toward them Behind him the other Blue Lions were coming out of the Dining Hall. Sylvain was even taller than Dimitri and Byleth felt like a child between them, a feeling made worse by Dedue’s arrival.

“That's enough, Sylvain.” Dedue’s voice was almost a growl beside Dimitri.

“Ugh, I can't believe Claude ate so much he passed out. I guess he should just...sleep it off? Oh, Professor! Great work today!” congratulated Hilda as she joined them, a short ally in this trio of giants.

“Oh please, I would love to join you as well! I have so many things I wish to talk to you about, Professor,” said Mercedes, breathless with her excitement as she practically skipped to Sylvain’s side.

“Oh, me too!” added Annette, cheeks red and warm from dancing as she stood beside her best friend. “I have so much to tell you! And I want to thank you too.”

“Honestly Professor? I was only able to hold my own against Petra thanks to you.” Ashe’s voice was soft as he stood to Dedue’s other side.

Ignatz nodded in agreement with his fellow archer’s words. “As long as we have you and Dimitri, the Blue Lion House is unstoppable!”

“Ashe and Ignatz have a point,” said Ingrid with a warm smile as she took her place beside Dimitri and clapped the prince on the shoulder. “You're irreplaceable to us, Professor.”

“Yes, that!” agreed Annette with a nod. “Without you, the Blue Lions... Well, we wouldn't even be the Blue Lions at all! Except for the blue part. Because we'd be sad.”

“I'm so please to be in your class, Professor,” offered Lysithea holding several of Mercedes’ delicate cakes in her arms as she joined them in the gardens. “You truly bring out the best in us.”

“I suppose...there are worse things than fighting at your side,” admitted Felix beside Ingrid, as if the compliment caused him physical pain.

Flayn stood beside Annette with a wide grin on her young face. “I have had the opportunity to experience much. Please allow me to offer you my gratitude once more, Professor.”

Dimitri chuckled at everyone’s heartfelt words, and Byleth’s discomfit with the praise. “As you can see, you have our trust, as well as our admiration. I look forward to spending the rest of the year with you.”

“As do I,” answered Byleth, trying to put as much feeling in her words as she could muster. It was somewhat overwhelming.

“Good. Then let's give it our all this year! Anyhow... It's getting late. I was escorting our professor to her room.” Dimitri left with the professor toward the dormitory.

“I think the Professor can handle herself,” called out Ingrid with a friendly smile.

“Of course, she can, but it is the noble thing to do,” pointed out Sylvain with a sly smile that suggested there was something more to the prince’s gesture than simple friendliness. Byleth chose to ignore the byplay and follow the prince who was quiet on the rest of their walk. He stood awkward by her door as Byleth unlocked her room and stepped into the now familiar tidy space.

“Thank you, Dimitri; for everything.”

“Ahh…yes. You’re welcome, Professor. I bid you a good night.” He didn’t meet her eyes, cheeks red, before he walked away, fast enough that it almost looked as though he was running from her. Byleth just shook her head, locking her door and crawling into bed, bone tired and warm.

Byleth found no rest in her slumber. She dreamt of ancient square towers in the desert painted red with blood. Smoke choked her as she tried to breath and screams deafened her. Byleth stumbled, blind and deaf before walking into a stone statue with Sothis’ face crying tears of blood. Touching the tears, Byleth fell through the statue and the earth, falling back into her bed with a snap that opened her eyes.

Looking around, Byleth calmed herself with the assurances she was still in her room. It had been a dream. Sothis was sitting on her desk, looking troubled.

“Hmmm... What was that name again?” muttered the girl. Byleth rolled over on her side.

“What's on your mind?” asked Byleth.

“Oh, this is frustrating me to no end!” exclaimed the girl, taking no note of Byleth as she stood up in a huff. “Oh, I have it! Zanado!”

“Zanado, the Red Canyon? Where we were sent or those thieves?” asked Byleth, sitting up and watching the agitated girl who lived in her head.

“That's it! It was not long ago that we were there and still, I somehow managed to forget!”

“What about it?” asked Byleth, stretching in her bed, forcing her body to waken.

“Well, that place brought back some fragments of my memory. I cannot help but wonder why.” Sothis turned to Byleth, bright green eyes staring into Byleth’s own. “I feel we must return to find some answers there.”

“You wish to go?”

“There is no urgent request from the Archbishop to attend to, is there? Surely, they will not miss us for a couple of days.” Byleth mulled it over. It was her free day, but she suspected she would need to ask Seteth’s permission to take a leave of absence for longer than just the single day.

“Let me ask Seteth for leave and we will go.”

“Yes, you are right,” nodded Sothis before she disappeared. _Thank you, Byleth_.

Byleth sighed and dressed. She made her way to the faculty building and knocked on Seteth’s office door. “Professor Eisner?”

“Good morning, Seteth. I need to leave the monastery for a couple of days, and I wanted to run it by you before I packed for the trip. I don’t expect that it should take more than two nights.”

“Might I inquire as to the reason?” asked Seteth with a softness Byleth had not come to expect of the administrator.

“It is not serious, but it is personal,” deflected Byleth, calmly. The man nodded as if he understood.

“I will look after your class for the single day you will be away. You have done good work with the Blue Lions. I would like to talk with you before you go. I have some questions for you. Please, come in. Might I offer you some tea?” asked the man and Byleth nodded, taking a seat.

“If you have a four-spice blend, I would appreciate it.” Seteth looked surprised at her choice.

“Good choice. I should not be surprised. Morfis has quite the spice trade.” Byleth nodded. She pined for home and the hefty perfume of the spice markets; mountains of dried spices in barrels that wafted through the bazaar and the heady blend of languages as traders from the world over gathered to hawk their wares. “Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” said Byleth, accepted the warm cup of tea and breathing in the delicate blend of cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and cloves with black tea. It wasn’t quite the extensive blend she knew from home, but it was the closest she had found in Fόdlan. The man took a seat across from her with his own cup of tea and watched her with those evaluating green eyes as he sipped at his tea.

“I believe I’ve told you this before, but it is my responsibility to aid the archbishop in all her duties.” Byleth nodded.

“What are these duties?” asked Byleth and Seteth chuckled softly into his cup.

“Spiritual instruction, ceremony oversight, donation management—all of the church’s many administrative tasks. I oversee not only the priesthood, but also the Knights of Seiros and the Officers Academy. The Archbishop entrusts a great deal to my discretion, and I am honoured by her confidence. Even when she must make decisions herself, she often seeks my counsel in advance.” Byleth kept her mouth closed to her own opinions of the Archbishop and her decisions.

“And yet, your appointment to a teaching position at the Officers Academy was a complete surprise to me. Not only that, but you have also been entrusted with the Sword of the Creator. Frankly, that decision baffles me. You should be fully investigated, at a minimum, before being trusted with such a responsibility. But no such investigation has been conducted. I know you are skilled in war, and in matters of strategy, but beyond that I know next to nothing about you,” finished Seteth and Byleth took a careful sip of her own tea.

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question, but the man shook his head.

“I do find you to be a trustworthy individual, but my subjective opinion is not enough. I have a duty to be cautious. Should the Archbishop’s trust in you prove to be misplaced, it is the faithful who will suffer most. Not only that, but you have also been entrusted with the Sword of the Creator. I was as surprised as anyone else to learn that.” Byleth wanted to smile. No one had been more surprised than herself. Whatever magic it was that allowed her to wield the weapon was beyond her basic understanding. Hanneman’s explanations often went in tangents and she still had no more understanding of what a Crest was than when she discovered she had one.

“And now—well, I will spare you my conjecture. In any case, it is time I learned more about you. I ask only that you answer my questions honestly. I will be most grateful for your cooperation.” Byleth nodded, she had expected a harsher inquisition months ago from the cautious administrator.

“First, I would like to know just how much you know about yourself. You are the child of Jeralt Eisner, correct?”

“That is what he tells me,” shrugged Byleth. It had come up more than once in her life that she looked nothing like her father. Sure, she had a skill at strategy and battle, but her style was very different to her father’s.

“That’s quite a vague reply for such a basic question. In the future, I would advise you to answer such queries with confidence,” advised Seteth, in a fatherly reprimanding tone. “As the former captain of the Knights of Seiros, Jeralt is renowned throughout Fódlan. If you really are his child, then no one would voice any complaint about you joining the knights. How long has it been since you became a mercenary?”

“About ten years, I guess.”

“Given your youth, that hardly seems likely.” Byleth shrugged. Evidently, his investigations had not turned up that she had killed quite young and her father began including her his planning after that. It was not widely known. “Come to think of it, I have never asked your age. Just how old are you, exactly?”

Byleth sighed, placing her tea down on his desk. “Well, um…”

“Your face says it all. You truly don’t know, do you?” interrupted Seteth, surprised and perhaps even a little angry for her. “Just what was Jeralt thinking raising you this way? Given your responses thus far, I feel as though any further questions would just be a waste of our time. However, permit me to make one thing clear. Whatever her reasons, the archbishop has placed great faith in you. Do not betray that trust. You may leave.” Byleth nodded.

“Thank you for the tea, Seteth. I am sorry I could not be more helpful.” With that, Byleth left and made her way to the stables to saddle Mutt. _He is a suspicious man, but more understanding than I had thought at first impression_. Byleth nodded in agreement to Sothis words. He was gentler than his stern expression would have her believe. Distracted by her own thoughts, Byleth didn’t even notice the small group of students watching her leave.

Hilda watched with curiosity, flanked by Dimitri and Claude. “Huh? Where's our professor going all alone like that?”

“I hate not knowing what's going on,” commented Claude, watching Byleth gather her horse and wave to the gatekeeper.

“Yes. I have an uneasy feeling about this. Let us gather the others and find out what is going on,” agreed Dimitri and Claude nodded.

“I’ll come along, none of your house can track worth a damn in the wild,” offered Claude and the prince, for a wonder, accepted the aid.

The ride north was even less pleasant the second time around, alone. Byleth found she missed the company of her students at camp. She had to be more careful, without a watch schedule. So, she didn’t light a fire, sitting in the cold and dark, wrapping Felix’s warm cloak tight around her against the chill of winter, hood pulled over her head against the light snowfall. Right now, she’d even take his sullen silent company.

“You’ve really grown attached to those children,” commented Sothis, appearing to sit beside her.

“Yes. They work hard.”

“It is more than that. You have been alone for so long.” Byleth levelled a look at her and Sothis rolled her eyes. “Oh, you had Jeralt and even Shamas, but you’ve never really had friends your own age except that one time. It is natural to be drawn to the companionship of people your own age.” Byleth was thankful the girl – spirit – whatever – didn’t say Priya’s name.

“Is that what this is? Friendship?” Sothis smiled at her, almost pityingly.

“If you asked them, I am sure they would say it is. You love them, and they love you. You protect each, lift each other up. That is friendship.”

“How do you know this? You couldn’t even remember your own name when we met,” pointed out Byleth pragmatically, pulling Dimitri’s loose gloves back over her much smaller hands. Sothis made a rude noise.

“I don’t remember names, but I remember the feeling. I had friends once, before you. I’m sure of it. Get some rest. I will keep watch and wake you if there is danger.” Byleth nodded and closed her eyes. Even in the light sleep she dreamed. Black and red eyes glared at her in the darkness, promising violence. Byleth’s sword was in the man’s hands and he grinned, a vicious ugly snarl on his scarred face. A monster in human form and Byleth’s eyes flew open as he charged.

The sun was only starting to paint the sky with its light and the air was even more frigid in the pre-dawn than in the deep of night. Byleth knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep in this morning frost and rose stiffly to rouse Mutt and continue her journey. There was no use in dwelling on these dreams.

The Red Canyon was as stark and unforgiving with a dusting of snow as it had been months ago in the warm sun. Byleth left Mutt in the safety of a copse of trees at the entrance to the ruins. She crossed the bridge toward where she had killed that bandit leader. The snow was kind enough to hide the blood of the Knight’s slaughter. Byleth needed no reminder of that day.

“Yes,” whispered Sothis, walking beside her and looking around the ruins. She placed a hand on a stone pillar as if she could see something in their stark surroundings that Byleth couldn’t. “It is all coming back to me. This structure...”

Sothis made a frustrated sigh. “Oh, but it's as though my memories are clouded. The most important pieces are obscured!” Sothis looked lost for the first time Byleth had ever seen. Sothis looked at her with those big green eyes.

“I once called this home. I have no doubt. I seem to recall something...on the other side of that wall. I cannot see it, but I can still feel it... It is not my imagination. I know this to be true. We are already deep within this valley...” Byleth made to move around the ruined wall Sothis pointed to.

Suddenly, the scenery changed. She saw those square towers from her dreams and fires raging all around her. People ran, screaming and panicked. The smoke was choking. As quickly as the fragment arrived it disappeared and Sothis looked at her and Byleth knew the girl had shared the same…dream? Memory?

A roared bounced off the silent stone walls of the canyon and Byleth stopped, hand hovering over the Relic at her hip.

“Oh! What was that awful sound?!” exclaimed Sothis, disappearing form sight with a pop.

 _Look! There! At the entrance of the valley...a giant shadow!_ Byleth turned and she saw the great nameless monster. Like and unlike the creature Miklan had become. Without hesitation she drew her blade and Byleth fell away as the Ashen Demon stood to face the creature.

It moved quicker than its size would suggest. Byleth rolled out of reach as it swiped at her, whipping the Relic’s extendable blade at the offending limb. The blade bounced off its armour and Byleth moved with motion. She had to keep moving as it continued to lunge at her with thought fast movements Byleth could barely noticed. If she stopped moving, she was dead.

Her sword, Relic or not, did nothing with the armour that encased its body. She flung a fire spell at it that may as well have been a leaf for all the damage it did. The creature roared at her, its tail whipping around to swipe at her as she rolled. Byleth saw it coming but had already committed to the roll and closed her eyes as the armoured tail hit her, sending her flying to hit the wall of the canyon hard.

Byleth felt her ribs crack at impact, her breath gone, and she lay unable to move as she gasped for air. It leapt at her and Byleth closed her eyes, waiting for the killing blow from above.

“Professor!” Byleth’s eyes flew open at that familiar voice to see Dimitri standing above her. His crest activated, the fine sharp lines of his hands glowing through his black gloves as he deflected the lunge from the beast with a strength no man could possibly have. The beast stumbled back, as if surprised by the strength of the man that blocked it from its prey.

Felix dashed at the beast from somewhere Byleth couldn’t see, his own shield-like Crest flaring to life over his chest as he swung his sword down. The armour cracked under the power of his blow and the beast howled, reeling back from the swordsman. An arrow pierced the creature in that weakness and Byleth was confused to see Claude with her archers and Annette, firing with a determined look on his face. Mercedes was at her side and Dimitri shot Byleth a worried look before running to support the swordsman with his lance, Hilda, Ingrid, Dedue and Sylvain at his back.

“Oh, Professor,” worried Mercedes, hands hovering over the cracked ribs. “Flayn! I need your help.” Both the healers forced the bones to knit together and Byleth gritted her teeth through it. Healing magic could close wounds and set bones, but it couldn’t hold back the agony of bones being forced to grow. She did all she could not to cry out or move as they healed the injury. At one point it felt like Flayn was taking a needle and thread to a puncture in Byleth’s lung from one of her ribs.

When the pain eased and Byleth opened her eyes, the beast was dead, and she was surrounded by the worried faces of her students, even Felix looked concerned. Mercedes and Flayn looked exhausted by their efforts and Byleth managed a hoarse thanks.

Dimitri offered her a hand to her feet, gripping her hands tightly once she was on her feet. “Professor, what were you thinking coming here alone? What if something had happened to you?” His voice was a mixture of anger and worry, his grip on her hands almost crushing with the last tendrils of his Crest’s powers still bleeding through his hands.

“Your Highness, our instructor is safe,” counselled Dedue with that steadfast calmness. Dimitri let out a long, ragged breath, releasing Byleth’s hands. “We should return to the monastery at once.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right. If we stay here much longer, we are sure to be reprimanded,” conceded the prince. Byleth felt her stomach roiling with an emotion she couldn’t name at the look on Dimitri’s face as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. It looked like hurt but guarded.

Dedue looked thoughtful, a small rare smile growing. “It is not untrue to assert that our professor led us here for battle experience...” Dimitri’s eyes snapped at the large armoured man with surprise.

“Dedue, you surprise me! And you, Professor.” There it was again, that look of guarded hurt that made her stomach turn with… _guilt_ , offered Sothis from the back of her mind. “I hope you will tell us what brought you here one day.”

“Listen, Teach,” smiled Claude, warm and mocking as ever. “No one likes aimless wandering more than me, but it's not worth dying over.”

“Well, we're all OK now, so let's just focus on the positive,” added Hilda with a sigh, fussing over some dirt on her clothing. “We are alive and so is the Professor.”

“Always the voice of reason, milady,” smiled Claude and Byleth was thankful that he was not as guarded with her as Dimitri.

“Thank you for following me and for helping out.” Claude did look uncomfortable at her thanks and just shrugged it off.

“If you died, I’d never be able to solve the delicious mystery you pose, Teach.” Hilda just rolled her eyes at her future leader.

“Oh, will you stop for just a minute,” whined the girl. Claude turned his smirk on his friend.

“Don’t like it when I pay attention to women who are not you?” Hilda huffed at that and hit him in the arm, hard. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“For being yourself,” snapped Hilda with a friendly smile. Their light bickering eased the tension that crackled around Byleth and she was glad for it right now.

Byleth remained silent as she fetched Mutt, and rode in silence with her students, retreating deep into her own thoughts. Sothis made a sound like someone clearing their throat in her mind. _I put us in a bit of danger there. We are most fortunate that those delinquents followed us... You very nearly met your end! What a marvellous professor you must be, for all your students to be so concerned._

 _I'm not used to it yet,_ responded Byleth silently. She did not like that guilt that gnawed at her stomach like rats.

 _You are not used to it? Hm. You must start thinking of yourself as a professor here and accept that this is what friendship is._ Byleth didn’t know what to do with friendships, and even less with the guilt of hurting one. _Be confident, as you have me to help you out._

Sothis retreated from the forefront of Byleth’s mind, and Byleth was quiet as Ingrid rode beside her. The young lancer looked over at Byleth and offered quietly: “Dimitri was very worried for you, Professor. We all were.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to put you all in danger.” Ingrid shook her head.

“Professor, if I may speak freely?” Byleth nodded and Ingrid sighed. “You are our professor, but you are also our friend. Friends help one another, they face dangers together. Dimitri is just hurt you didn’t trust him in the way we trust you. He looks like a strong person; he must in order to be the King he needs to be. However, he is quite sensitive, sometimes too much so, but I cannot help but think this is better thing than feeling nothing at all. If you can, please at least give him a reason you left the monastery alone without so much as note as to where you were going. You do not have to tell him why you came here.”

“Thank you, Ingrid. I will.” The young woman nodded, and they fell back into silence as they rode. They made camp together and Dimitri remained quiet as he set up the tents with Sylvain. Sylvain waved the prince off with a pointed look and Byleth tensed as the prince stood near where she was seated, tending to the fire.

“We did not bring an extra tent for you, Professor. I hadn’t realised you had not packed one. Mine is the only one not full – just me and Claude, so you may use that if it would not be improper.” He looked embarrassed by the notion, still not quite meeting her eyes as his face turned warm and red.

“Thank you, Dimitri. Please, take a seat.” Byleth felt uncomfortable enough with what she was about to say and having him looming over her just made her more uncomfortable. He looked ready to refuse, but he did take a seat, though across from her and not beside her. Forcing Byleth to look at him as she spoke.

“I wanted to apologise for not telling you I was leaving. I did not consider you would be concerned and did not expect there to be danger. I am sorry.” Dimitri still didn’t meet her eyes, watching the burgeoning fire instead as Byleth carefully fed the growing embers with kindling. The silence seemed to stretch time around her, like Sothis’ magic.

“I care about you, Professor. I have told you much of myself, more than most. It hurt that you could not trust me in return.”

“I am sorry for hurting you,” apologised Byleth, sincerely. She took a deep breath to organise her thoughts. “There is so little I understand or know about myself. It often feels as though others know more about me than I do, and I wanted to solve this mystery on my own. When I last came to the Red Canyon, I felt a familiarity I could not explain. I wanted to return now that things had come to a lull and try to figure it out on my own. I did not expect that this would come across as my not trusting you. I care deeply for you, Dimitri, and my trust for you and the rest of the Blue Lions runs just as deep. This was something I wanted to do on my own.”

He nodded, understanding the reasoning she provided him. “I would also like to thank you. You gathered everyone and protected me when I needed it. You are a good friend and I have not had many of those in my life.” Dimitri smiled at her, sadly.

“I hope you can continue to think of me as a friend, Professor. And in time, when you have solved this mystery for yourself, we can discuss it as such.” Byleth smiled at the young prince warmly.

“I would like that, Dimitri. Thank you.”


End file.
